A Narnian Revelation
by cap red
Summary: In England the Pevensies are living their lives, no one but them knowing about Narnia and that they were Kings and Queens there. What happens when a Portal between worlds opens and the Narnian world becomes part of the English one?
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hi all! This idea has been flowing around in my head for a while now. It's based on the idea, what if a portal between Narnia and England opened in a very public manner? Everything that happened in the books minus the last battle happened, although I have condensed the timeline a bit. LWW happened in the summer. PC happened as they were going to school. VDT happened over Christmas break and now this story is happening at the beginning of Easter. There are also a few other minor changes but those should become obvious as the story progresses.

AN2: I would also like to thank Elecktrum for kindly allowing me to use her characters and events as a back story. I strongly recommend you go and read all her fics. They are excellent.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chronicles of Narnia, nor do I go around tapping the back of wardrobes. Really I don't!

* * *

"Mr. Pevensie!" the teacher, a strict man with a bushy moustache called snapped.

I jumped up from where I had been dazing out the window, staring at the old oak that was dancing in the breeze. It wasn't a Narnian oak though so it really wasn't that interesting. I ignored the snickers of my classmates and turned to face my teacher, raising one eyebrow as I did.

He bristled at my insolence and spoke sharply, "Mr. Pevensie, since you see no need to pay attention in my class, would you care to answer question six on the blackboard?"

Lazily I strolled over to the blackboard, eyeing the question and calculating the answer in my mind. We had just begun algebra for the first time and so for most of my class the question would be very difficult, but for someone who had studied for years under the greatest centaur minds, it was ridiculously easy.

I scribbled the answer, and Mr. Small glared at me.

"Sit down Mr. Pevensie, and if I catch you daydreaming again it will be the cane. Why can't you be more like your brother? I never had any trouble with him!"

Once that comment would have had me angry, but now it only filled me with a fierce pride for my brother. I didn't need to listen to the class as my answer should have proven but my teachers seemed to hold a grudge against me. They all couldn't look past the beastly boy I had been and see what I was now. Nevertheless I resolved myself to spending the lesson listening to things I had learned years ago.

* * *

"Oi Pevensie," a voice shouted.

I turned around in the bustling corridor, to see James Davidson walking towards me. I once considered him a friend, before I realised what sort of person he was, and before he realised what sort of person I'd become. Since then he seemed to make it his mission to make my life a living hell. He was failing miserably, but only because his school boy antics couldn't compare to _her_

"Yes?" I asked impatiently, crossing my arms.

He sneered at me, "You think your so clever don't you Pevensie? Think you're better then me don't you?"

I gave a wicked little grin and simply said "Yes." And walked off quickly. I had no wish to get into a fight that morning....

* * *

It didn't work, and now I was sitting in the principles office with a black eye and a swollen lip. I shouldn't even have gotten that but I held back not wanting to hurt him. He had never been in a battle and I had. He had no idea what I was capable of, he hadn't seen the scars that I hid under my shirt.

It was strange though I thought. Though we had regressed in age when we fell through the wardrobe, we all still had the scars that we had gained in Narnia. It was a constant reminder to us that it had happened, that it was real. In the cold air they ached, and when I stretched I could feel the tug and they _itched. _When I looked in the mirror, I could see the horrible stab wound that I had gained at Beruna, and even if the nightmares weren't present the scars were.

All of us had gained scars, all of us except Susan who never participated in battles. Maybe that's why she was beginning to withdraw, to say that it wasn't real... No! I wouldn't think about that now. I turned back to pay attention to the principle who was just winding down in his lecture.

"... and if I find the two of you fighting again, you will be expelled. As it is you're lucky I'm not suspending you and rest assured I will be contacting your parents. This country has seen enough fighting and I don't need nor want to see you two fighting again. You will be confined to your dorms for the next week. No extra curriculars, sports or social events. You will attend classes and meals and that's it. You're dismissed".

The two of us got out of our chairs and left the room, Davidson glaring at me all the way, as if it was my fault that he started a fight. I ignored him, he wasn't worth my attention.

* * *

I was not surprised to see Peter waiting in my room. He would have heard of the fight. He would have heard of it and being angry. Not at me, he knew me well enough to know that I wouldn't have got into a fight without either just cause or unwillingly, no, he was angry at himself. Angry that he hadn't been there fighting at my side. Back to back and side to side as always.

He sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair, "Oh Ed..."

I ignored him and went to change my clothes, my uniform having a hole in it from where I had been shoved against a wall.

Peter didn't take my silence well and went to hug me. I leant into his hug, my head resting under his chin where it hadn't fit in years. I sighed, "Why is it so hard Peter..." I said, allowing out the emotion that I only showed in front of Peter.

He just hugged me tighter and suddenly I realised that I was crying and angrily I wiped the tears away. Peter chuckled slightly.

"It gets easier in time. Aslan knows what's best and really we are getting too old..."

I stared incredulously at him.

"That's utter rot and you know it Peter." I interrupted.

"No really it's... I mean I still miss it but... well."

Peter really was a terrible liar.

"Peter, how can you pretend that it's all right? Our people are there, are home is there, Aslan is there!"

"Aslan is here too Ed." He said grasping my hands in his.

I couldn't deny that but, "not to the same extent Peter. Not in the same way".

Peter nodded, "Maybe but he did say that we will never see Narnia again, and so we must resign ourselves to this way, and really it's not so bad."

I remembered with clarity how Aslan had told Lucy and I that we would never see Caspians' reign develop, would never see our home change through the ages. I thought at the time that as Aslan willed it I could follow his commands. I had not realised how much the hope of return had sustained me the first time round.

Peter seemed to realise I needed space from my thoughts and so changed the subject, "How long are you in confinement for?"

"One week."

"I shouldn't really be in here then, should I?"

I snorted, "No, but if you get caught just spin a tale of how you're telling me off and how I'm such a disappointment to you".

Peter choked a little bit, "I'm not a very good liar Ed." He argued.

I gave a wicked grin, "Fine then, I'll lie."

Peter laughed and threw a pillow at my head, which I caught with a smirk. We then proceeded to have a pillow fight until we both collapsed onto the bed in tiredness.

"One week, you'll miss me leaving then." Peter said quietly into the pillow.

"Damnation." I swore, cursing myself for forgetting, for getting into a fight when I knew what the consequences would be. Peter and his class were going on a three week long survival training camp in Wales. Essentially they were going to be dropped off in the middle of nowhere and told to find their way back to civilisation. They'd be supervised the entire time but it wouldn't stop me from being worried. Not that I had any reason to be worried. It's not like anything would happen to him in England, and in truth he would be far more able to handle the wilderness then the teachers. They had never been captured by Ettin Giants. But...

"I'll miss you Peter, stay safe." Peter understood. It would be the longest time we would be apart since I came back from Narnia for the last time. I needed my rock.

Peter reached over and kissed me on the head.

"I'll miss you too Ed."


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Wow! Thanks for all the positive feedback from everyone who reviewed, it is much appreciated. Just to clarify some point that I thought might cause confusion in later chapters. I follow the book verse of Narnia and only use minor and non-contradictory parts of the film as reference. I hope you enjoy the next chapter. ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia. Seeing as Narnia is a place through a wardrobe, and I have yet to find said wardrobe, this is hardly surprising.

* * *

I didn't get let out of my confinement until two days before the end of term. This meant that I had, like I knew I would, missed seeing Peter onto the school bus that was taking him to Wales. This didn't mean that I had missed saying goodbye. The night before leaving Peter had snuck into my room. We had talked long into the night before finally falling asleep. It had been our habit to share a room in Narnia, despite having our own separate chambers. Not having that option in England had taken some adjusting. I had missed Peter's warm presence and he had missed my snoring (although I will just for the sake of it deny that I snore). The fact that we wanted to share a room was considered strange by the other boys in the school. Those of Peter's age found their siblings annoying and were only too glad for the distance from them. Those my age wanted the independence of having their own rooms. But I had always had trouble sleeping unless I could hear Peter's steady breathing, and know that he was alright, and I knew that Peter was the same. We both had been injured and alone far too often to not take comfort in the others presence. The other boys just couldn't understand that.

In the morning Peter had snuck out the room before the school began to stir. He needed to avoid the teachers who would have been sure to tell him off for being outside of his room after curfew. His leaving had of course woken me up and though I was as ill tempered as I usually am in the morning, this had not stopped Peter from grabbing me in a fierce hug and kissing the top of my head. He had asked for my blessing on his trip, which of course I gave, and I allowed him to fuss over me, knowing that it was his way of dealing with his own nerves.

He then left and later in the morning I watched from my window as Peter had boarded the bus and left. I had waited until the bus was out of sight, before turning to continue preparing for classes. Peter was out of my reach, and once again I was completely alone. But it was only for a few days. Soon I would be back in Finchley and though Mother would be overbearing and smothering (although I will be the first to admit that this is only because she didn't understand that we had grown up), Lucy would also be there. Lucy was without a doubt the most cheerful and friendly person you could possible meet. There had not been a man or beast within Narnia able to withstand her charm. She had been her light, and her faith in Narnia and in Aslan had been a beacon to all of us. When I had returned to Narnia for the third time, it was with Lucy by my side. She had been a comfort to me and she alone was the only one of us who could understand my grief when we finally left for the last time, because she had left with me.

I would miss Peter. He was my brother and closer to me then even Lucy and Susan. But I couldn't deny that it would be good to see my sister again.

* * *

When I finally did leave confinement I decided to head to the common room for my year group. It wasn't that I particularly wanted to see anyone else, and I doubted very much that they wanted to see me. But I was so bored! I was bored of the same few walls staring me in the face. At the very least the common room would be a change of scenery, and usually the radio was playing so I could at least listen to some music.

Entering the common room, I quickly found an empty seat next to a small bookcase. I selected a book on history, one of few subjects that didn't bore me. The history between Narnia and England was so vastly different, and no amount of learning of Narnia would help me in history class. Thankfully history had always been a favourite topic of mine, and so I found it easy to understand and learn.

I sat down to read the book, and quickly became engrossed in the history of the monarch, Henry Tudor and his six wives. I was just starting the chapter on the fall of Thomas Wolsey, when I heard a word I had never thought to hear spoken.

I looked up sharply, and gazed around the room, clearing out my ear with my finger. I had to be mistaken; I could have sworn I heard...

There it was again, and this time I couldn't have misheard. Someone had mentioned Narnia. Someone else knew!

I slammed the book shut, no longer interested and tried to find who had spoken. For the first time, I noticed the excited air in the room, and I wondered briefly how I had missed it the first time. I then realised that I hadn't missed it but I had dismissed it as being end of term excitement. But now I noticed that all around the room, boys were clumped together over newspapers. Each talking loudly and excitedly to their neighbours and several boys were pointing at the newspapers. Several more times the word 'Narnia' drifted towards my ears.

I got up, and marched over to the nearest cluster and grabbed the open newspaper away from them.

"Oy! I was reading that." One of the boys protested, but I paid him no heed as I stared transfixed at the image in front of me.

There in bold black and white print was a picture of Kanell, my teacher and friend, and above that was the headline proclaiming for all to see. I sank down into the nearest chair, gasping for air as I stared in shock. I ignored the other boys' loud complaints as I took in every word of the article.

_**Myths Come To Life!**_

_At ten o'clock yesterday morning an event happened that shook the nation. A strange phenomenon as an event that has never before happened took place. A portal between worlds opened in the midst of Hyde Park. Out of it stepped creatures out of legend. The portal led to a place called Narnia, inhabited by of all things talking animals! _

_The police immediately cordoned off the area, although crowds of people have congregated nearby, to catch a glimpse of the creatures as they travel between our world and theirs. _

_The creatures have expressed no ill will towards us and have begun diplomatic negotiations with the government. Heading the negotiation is the Centaur Kanell (pictured below), who is believed to be a captain in their army, and a talking animal called Sir Giles Fox. Also within their party our several more talking animals, a couple of dwarfs, and three fawns..._

The paper was grabbed out of my hand, and I turned to glare at the culprit.

"That's mine Pevensie. Go get your own paper." A small boy called Timothy Applebaum sneered at me.

I just stared as he walked away talking loudly to his friends about that weird Pevensie boy. I couldn't believe it. Narnia was here in England. I needed to know more. I hurried over to the radio which was playing one of the more popular tunes and turned it to another channel...

"_The Narnians have informed us that they have placed a troop on their side of the barrier to ensure that no one can enter this country unauthorised. For those of you who are just tuning in..."_

Another boy came over and turned the station back to what they were listening to before. He gave me a scathing look.

"What you playing at Pevensie? No one wants to listen to that. Just bugger off why don't you?"

I couldn't here what they were saying though. The room was getting stuffy, and I needed to get out. Needed to think! The room was beginning to spin and I felt faint, but I shook my head, and cleared it, though the loud, obnoxious voices of the boys in my year merged into one and swirled through my head. Their bright faces, extended in loud, mocking laughter and noise. I couldn't take it. I ran.

* * *

I took shelter in a small woodland area in the grounds of the school. It wasn't large, barely more than a handful of trees, but it was sheltered and private. It was there that I finally let go and wept.

"Oh Aslan!" I cried, as I shook with joy. I was in a place so different from Narnia and yet, a little bit of Narnia had made its way back into my life.

I needed to pray, needed to thank Aslan for what he had done, because it could only be Aslan that had done it. But I couldn't think of the words, couldn't express myself in a way that was sufficient enough for the joy I felt. It was Peter who had been good at that. Nevertheless I knelt and I closed my eyes and let all my emotions wash over me, and just for a moment I felt as if I could feel his warm breath wash over me and I thought I heard a distant roar. I opened my eyes, but I was alone in the clearing, but I knew that Aslan had heard me, and for the moment that was enough.

* * *

Once I was calm I began to think more clearly and the full implications began to sink in. Narnia had come to England, but now the trouble came over how I would get to the Narnians. I was at school, and there was no way I would be able to leave. I would just have to wait until the end of term in two days. But then I would be with my mother and I had no chance of being let into London by myself. I was eleven in her eyes. I could tell her the truth, but she wouldn't believe me, would just think that I was making trouble. Sure Lucy would back me up, but Lucy wouldn't be believed either. Even if by chance our mother did trust us, then she still wouldn't let us go. She would only see her small children. She wouldn't be able to understand that we are older then we appear. She would let Peter go...

Oh Aslan, Peter. Peter was in the middle of nowhere. He wouldn't know, and there was no way to tell him. He'd be gone for weeks and there was absolutely no way to contact him at all. Susan as well. Susan was in America, and though she was sure to hear of it all, there would be no way for her to help.

It would be up to me then. But how could I reach them... unless.... A sudden idea hit me. The last day of term a school trip had been organised for my class. We were to visit Buckingham palace which was very near to Hyde Park. I had permission to go of course and it would be terribly easy to sneak off. The teachers would be worried but I really didn't care. I needed to go.

But then, how would I get to the Portal, the police had cordoned the area off. I would have to sneak past or draw the Narnians attention in some way. If I could get a Narnian to talk to me then that would be enough. I was younger then they remembered but I would be able to convince them of my identity.

I resolved myself. It would be difficult; so many things could go wrong. But I had no choice...

It was the only way.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It is much appreciated. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia, nor do I make any money out of it. However I am open to making trade negotiations with the Narnian embassy...

* * *

"Seven."

"Eight."

"Nine."

"...."

"Mr. Pevensie I told you to number off. Now say your number!"

I glanced up, "Sorry Sir, ten."

Mr. Small nodded, "Right then, carry on."

"Eleven."

"Twelve."

I tuned out the class again, and stared around my surroundings. We were several roads away from Hyde Park, where the coach had dropped us off. The coach driver had wanted to drop us nearer to the palace, but the roads were so busy. Even here there were crowds of people all walking in the direction of Hyde Park. Our group of boys were clustered so close together, so as to avoid being separated by the crowd.

"Twenty One." two voices shouted.

Mr. Small whirled on one of them,"Do not say anyone's number but your own Mr. Adams. It is very important that I know if anyone is not with the class. Start again!"

The class collectively groaned as Luke Smeaton started the numbering off from one. I turned my attention back to my planning. It was the crowd that I was hoping would aid me in my escape. None of the boys would notice if I disappeared, and if they did notice they wouldn't care, thinking it was a bit of a lark. The teacher would also be hard pressed to keep an eye on all of us. I just had to wait until the opportune moment.

We finished numbering off and Mr. Small glared at the class, paying particular attention to me. I smiled innocently at him, and he eyed me with suspicion, before turning to address the class as a whole.

"Everyone we are about to head over to Buckingham Palace. We will be heading through this crowd, so I want _everyone_ to stick together. Do you understand?"

There were some muttered affirmations, and Mr. Small glared one more time for good measure, before turning on his heel. The other boys laughing and joking followed behind him.

I deliberately went at the back of the class, and trailed a few feet behind them. Not too much to be wholly separated from the group as Mr. Small was constantly checking behind him, to make sure we were all still there, but enough so, as not to be near enough the rest of the class for them to really notice me.

The crowd grew increasingly thick as we moved onwards, but Mr. Small was still diligently checking that everyone was there. I was growing increasingly anxious that I wouldn't get my chance and that I would have no choice but to beg my mother to take me into London.

But luck was on my side, as a gentleman from the crowd was jostled into one of my classmates who fell to the floor with a loud cry. My class were immediately surrounding him, and the gentleman in question was loudly apologising to the boy who was clutching his leg in pain. Mr. Small pushed his way through the boys, loudly saying, "Give him some space now boys. What's the matter Mr. Masters?"

The commotion was grabbing the attention of the people around us, and I saw my chance. No one was paying the slightest bit of attention to me. Quietly I slipped away, walking nonchalantly as if I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

No one noticed me leave, and in the mass of people they would be unlikely to find me. A grin spread across my face. It had worked!

* * *

My small frame allowed me to easily push through the horde of people that were watching the portal that was glowing a small distance away. It was an odd looking thing. A tall arch made of wood and engraved with all sorts of symbols, some of which I recognised and some I did not. It let off a white light, which was almost blinding, but through the light I could vaguely make out images of tall trees and green land, and I knew it to be my home.

It was strange, but the nearer I got to the portal, the more magic I felt, as if bits of Narnia were leaking into England. I wondered briefly if Narnia was losing part of itself through the portal, but dismissed that thought. Narnia was Aslans land, the heart of magic. It could no more stop being Narnia then a horse could fly. Anything that it may lose to England was but a drop, and the mere presence of Aslan in Narnia would renew that drop a hundred fold. Every simple act in Narnia allowed it to grow, from the dancing dryads to the toiling dwarfs. If England could gain just a small part of that essence, then it was a gift worth giving. I breathed in the air deeply, wanting so much to go through the portal and reach Narnia for real. That small taste of home was enticing.

I finally reached the edge of the crowd, and could see the portal looming in front of me. I looked around, noticing the presence of the police. How I would get passed them I had no idea. I had tried to think of a way before arriving but it had been impossible to do so without having more information. How many police were there? How big was the crowd? How far away is the Portal from the crowd? Now I had the answer to those questions and the situation seemed hopeless. I had wished that I would see a Narnian and thus avoid the whole difficulty but that was not to be.

I took in the situation. There was a huge police presence, no doubt about that, and the portal was a considerable distance from the crowd but maybe...

I approached the nearest policeman putting on a slightly scared expression. For the first time since leaving Narnia I was glad of my small frame, and reduced age. Sure it annoyed me that I could no longer reach things on the top shelf, but in situations like this it was incredibly useful.

"Excuse me Sir" I said, grabbing the policeman's attention.

He looked at me, taking in my school uniform and smiled kindly, "yes Lad?"

I took a deep breath, "Sorry Sir, it's just...I was on a school trip...and in this crowd...I've lost my class sir."

The policeman looked around as if searching for a sign of a class, before turning his attention back to me.

I continued speaking, purposely rushing my words to make it seem more childlike, "It's also, I mean the crowd... everyone keeps pushing into me... and knocking me over...and there's no way my class will be able to find me in that!" I said gesturing to the mob of people. Take the bait! I thought, Take it.

The policeman nodded thoughtfully. "I see what you mean, lad. Why don't you come sit over here, and I'll see if I can get anyone to find your teacher for you?"

I smiled slightly in relief, as the policeman let me through the barrier and led me over to a park bench to wait as he went to talk to another police officer. The smile was completely genuine, although he probably thought it was because he had taken me out of the crowd. My idea had worked. Ha! I always new I was a genius. None of the police were paying any attention to what was inside the cordoned area. They were more concerned with crowd control.

The policeman who had let me inside was too busy talking to the other officer to look at me, so I inconspicuously stood up, and edged my way closer to the barrier.

Five steps... I was almost there.

Ten steps...I looked around, still no one was looking at me.

Fifteen steps...I could see clearly through the barrier now. I recognised the place. It was about three hours ride from Cair Paravel.

Twenty steps...I broke into a run. I was almost there, almost through...

A hand roughly grabbed me by the shoulder and whirled me around. I stared up into the angry face of the policeman and my hopes deflated.

"What do you think you are doing?"

I opened my mouth, but he cut me off, "Don't answer that, I could see perfectly well. Are you really so foolish as to try and cross through a portal you know nothing about. It could be dangerous!"

I wrenched out of his group, and drew myself up to my full height. It irked me that I had to look up at him. If I was my real age then I would look much more intimidating.

"I know more about Narnia then you do!" I snapped.

He raised an eyebrow, and said coolly, "I sincerely doubt that."

I was about to retort when an angry yell interrupted, "Mr. Pevensie!"

I groaned inwardly and turned to look as Mr. Small arrived at the edge of the crowd, my class following like a gaggle of geese. A policeman tried to stop him from entering, but he said something and pointed at me, and the policeman let him through.

Mr. small stormed over, his expression murderous. "Mr. Pevensie what did you think you were doing. I told the class to stick together."

The policeman addressed Mr. Small, "Is this boy your student Mr..."

"Mr. Small, and yes, this miscreant is my student, although that term can only be applied loosely and hopefully for not much longer."

"A trouble maker then? That explains it; I caught the boy trying to enter the portal. That is after he told me he had gotten separated from you." The policeman explained.

Mr. Small sneered, "Separated, Ha, more like he snuck off. You are in a lot of trouble Mr. Pevensie; as soon as we get back to school you are getting the cane. I have had it up to here with your shenanigans."

"Like I would allow you anywhere near me with a cane." I snorted.

"You will do as you're told!"

I would have retorted, but something black caught the edge of my eye. I looked up, ignoring Mr. Small as he continued to berate me. Something was circling over head. Could it be...my eyes widened. It was!

Without even thinking I ran over to the bench and jumped on it, so that I would be at a slightly higher vantage point. I ignored the yells of my teacher and the laughter of my class as I clapped my hands once, twice and then spread my arms wide. Within seconds a large bat had swooped down onto my shoulder and settled there.

Mr. Small drew back sharply with a hiss, and a murmur of excitement passed through the crowd. I could see people straining to see what was obviously a talking bat!

"Good Morn." I said to the bat.

The bat twitched slightly, and shuffled where it was hanging for a moment to get into a more comfortable position. "Good Morn to you as well. I am called Sa'ra Mivven. May I ask why you called me?"

I grinned; I seemed to always be gaining aid from the Mivven family. A more worthy colony there could never be.

"Are you related to Gil Mivven?" I asked.

Sa'ra smiled, "Indeed I am good sir. He is my cousin by my fathers' sister."

"So you are the niece of Pa'ala Mivven." I prompted. I hoped by showing such an intimate knowledge of her family, she would be more open to trusting me.

"Why yes I am! But I must ask again why did you summon me?" She peered at me, through bright eyes and her grip on my arm tightened somewhat.

"I have a message for you to deliver."I said without preamble.

"Oh! I am afraid that I am in the employ of the Narnian army, and whilst I would dearly love to aid you. I am rather busy." She said sorrowfully.

"My message is rather important." I insisted.

"What is it?" she shifted slightly on my arm, slightly impatient.

"It is about the Just King."

Her shifting paused and she looked up at me sharply, "what?" she asked, her voice harsh and high pitched.

"Conduct this message to Sir Kanell of the Ettins Keep, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Table," I said, deliberately using that title as I knew it would both grab her attention and that it hadn't been mentioned in England so far. "Tell him that Sir Edmund How is waiting at the Portal in Hyde Park, and that he wishes for Sir Kanell to attend him there."

Sa'ra Mivven looked around wildly, listening for some sign of the King, before piercing me with an excited look. "The King is here! The Just King is here! Where is he?"

I smiled down at her, and said, "He's closer then you think. Now go quickly and give him my message."

She looked at me curiously and I wondered if she had guessed before she shook her head and said, "Throw me".

I obliged and she took off with a screech, circled in the air a few times before flying off above the excited crowd, who pointed and waved at her until she was out of sight.

I sighed and sat down on the bench I was standing on. Now all I could do was wait until she got back, hopefully with Kanell.

I looked up, just as Mr. Small began laying into me about what just happened.

Blast! I had forgotten about the class.

.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Ok here is another chapter. It did not turn out as well as I had hoped but I wanted to get it out so enjoy anyway.

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia. I do own a wardrobe, but sadly it does not have any hidden portals to another world.

* * *

"What was that all about Mr. Pevensie?" Mr. Small asked harshly.

I gazed up at him before turning away. I had no interest in answering; all I wanted to do was wait for Kanell. My silence however seemed to infuriate Mr. Small.

"Answer me Mr. Pevensie." He snapped.

I shrugged, "What do you think it looked like?"

Mr. Small bent down so that he was eye level with me and hissed into my face, "I do not know what foolish games you are playing Mr. Pevensie, but you have wasted enough of the class's time. Whatever you are planning ends here."

I smirked. It would end here alright, but not in the way Mr. Small would expect.

Mr. Small noticed my smirk, "and wipe that look off your face. You have no reason to be smiling!"

I couldn't resist, "On the contrary, I have every reason to be smiling."

He looked at me, "and pray tell what reasons are those?" he asked sarcastically.

I leant back, not deigning to respond, but my silence seemed to open up an avenue of questions from the class.

"Oi Pevensie, what was that?"

"Was that a _talking _bat?"

"How do you know a Narnian?"

"What was that about a Sir Edmund? You're not a knight are you?

"What...?"

"How did...?"

"When were...?"

"Silence!" Mr. Small shouted, and the class quietened, although muttered voices and whispered excitement could still be heard. Mr. Small nodded, satisfied.

"Now enough of this foolishness. Mr. Pevensie stand up, we are leaving."

I continued to lean back on the bench, and raised an eyebrow. The response was a clear challenge, _make me_.

The policeman who had been standing in silence up until that point chose that point to intervene, "You'd better do as he said Lad. You lot shouldn't even be in here. I only let you in because you lost your class and all."

I stared up at him and said simply, "I am not going anywhere until I get Sir Kanell's response." And even then I wouldn't be leaving, although I didn't say that out loud. Now that I had made contact, I wasn't going to relinquish that for anything.

"Flaunting a policeman's order now are you Pevensie? Get up at once!"

I continued to ignore him so Mr. Small grabbed me roughly by the arm and hurled me to my feet. I twisted out of his grip and turned an icy glare on him, one which had made my most fierce enemies tremble.

"I would advise _sir_ that you do not manhandle me like that again." I said with frigid calmness.

Mr. Small seemed taken a back for a moment before he recovered himself, "Is that a threat Pevensie?"

I shook my head, "No it's not a threat. It's a promise!"

Mr. Small said something else but I didn't hear him because behind him I could make out a commotion in the crowd. A familiar figure was galloping towards us, and above him was the dark figure of Sa'ra Mivven.

I smiled widely at the sight, but Mr. Small seeing my grin and already angry, grew enraged. He raised his hand as if to strike me and I turned around just in time to see the blow almost strike, but it was stopped inches away from my head by the strong arm of the centaur captain.

He looked first at the teacher and then at me, and I could see his eyes widen slightly in what I hoped was recognition. He levelled a glare at the teacher, and Mr. Small actually winced. He knew that he had gone too far.

"I would ask what you were going to do but I think that it was blatantly obvious. What I must wonder at is that you are so foolish as to try and hit a child in front of so many... what is the term, reporters."

For the first time I noticed the multitude of reporters that had followed Kanell. They had obviously seen the exchange and were flashing photos excitedly. I almost flinched when I realised that my picture would most likely be plastered over tomorrow's front page, but I had enough self control to hide my emotions behind a carefully blank mask. In any event with what I was, it was unthinkable that I would be able to avoid media attention.

Kanell who had obviously grown use to the media in the short amount of time that he had been in England turned to address me, ignoring Mr. Small who had started to stutter an explanation, "You are the one who summoned me?" the question was half to me and half to Sa'ra Mivven who screeched an affirmative response.

I nodded, "Yes I summoned you. I summoned you in the hope that you of all Narnians would recognise me."

Kanell agreed grudgingly, "You do have the look of someone I once knew and loved, but it is impossible. You are too young to be him, although maybe you are a relative?" he questioned hopefully.

I took a step towards him, "Not a relative but him." I said quietly.

Kanell shook his head, "Impossible." he reiterated.

"Not impossible but....how old was I when I first entered Narnia?"

Kanell looked at me, "About the age which you look to be now, but fifteen years have passed between then and now." Kanell said logically.

"But if when we left Narnia, it was like no time had passed in the world of our birth, would it then be possible that we would return to the age that we were when we first left that world?" I persisted, hoping fervently that he would listen to me.

Behind him several big cats had appeared and they were now prowling around the two of us, eyeing me dangerously. I ignored them, focused entirely on the centaur before me.

He stared at me, eyeing me up and down taking in every detail of my appearance. He took in my dark hair, pale skin, dusting of freckles upon my nose and the glint of intelligence in my eyes. I raised my eyebrow and he jumped back, startled, and breathed in deeply. I also held my breath.

"Time flows differently between worlds," he said in gentle acknowledgement and I released my breath.

"I am inclined to believe you." He began, "But I will require some proof. It is somewhat farfetched what you say, especially since there is no mention of the land of Spare Oom in this land."

I snickered slightly, "That is because, as we tried to explain repeatedly when we first arrived in Narnia, there is no land of Spare Oom, or City of War Drobe or even a castle of Finchley. We entered through an old wardrobe in the spare room of a house!"

"Again I am inclined to believe you. Having been in this world full of Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve I am beginning to realise that Spare Oom and War Drobe are strange sounding names. But I still require proof."

I sobered, "What sort of proof will you require?"

"Perhaps you can answer some questions?"

I nodded slowly, but then an even surer proof entered into my mind, for questions could be unreliable.

"I have a better idea. As my teacher and fellow soldier, you would have seen every scar that marred my body, and I bet you would recognise them all as well."

Kanell agreed.

I sighed aware of all the eyes that were on me but... modesty be damned! This was the surest, most undeniable proof I had. Slowly I took off my jumper and unbuttoned my shirt.

There was a gasp from the crowd and a flash of photography but I ignored all of those, focused as I was on Kanells reaction. He stared straight at me in shock and disbelief, taking in all my scars, the most prominent of which, the haunting, cursed mark from the White Witches wand.

He shook his head wildly, "It's impossible!" he exclaimed.

I took a step forward and grabbed his hand and put it on top of my old wound, made him feel the raised, unsmooth skin.

"Feel this! Is it not familiar? Is it not real? Do not deny what every sense shouts out to be the truth."

Realisation hit him and without any warning he grabbed me into a fierce hug, lifting me off the ground and kissed me on the head. Then in pure centaur fashion he cuffed me to show his affection. He was laughing in joy and tears were flowing down his face. I was laughing as well, I was so happy. It was one of the only times I had seen him lose his composure let alone so publicly.

However once that initial display was over he stepped backwards from me in utter solemness and I felt myself sober and the smile faded from my face.

Then to my utter astonishment he did something that was incredibly difficult for centaurs to do.

He knelt before me, and before everyone from my schoolmates to the press he said...

"Hail Edmund, Just King of Narnia."

And behind him all the Narnians knelt before me and acknowledged me as King.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Hi everyone. I've finally updated, meaning that I am now back from my travelling. I meant to get further along then this in the chapter, but this one developed itself, and I liked the direction it went in. I didn't particularly like the ending that much, but it's the best that I could come up with.

Disclaimer: I do not own Chronicles of Narnia, nor am I making any money or profit out of this fanfiction. Neither have I found the doorway into Narnia. This fact is very sad to me.

* * *

The moment was ruined by Mr. Small.

"What's all this then?" he spluttered, "Edmund Pevensie a King? What utter rot! He is nothing more then a naughty school boy and a miscreant!"

That was it! My temper snapped. "Perhaps I appear to be those things because that is what you wish to see."

"It is not what I wish to see. It is what you are. You are lazy, selfish and arrogant. More then that though, you are a bully, with no consideration for others. Peter I could understand being a King. You though, you are the opposite of what is needed. You have tricked these Narnians into believing you are a King, but it will not work on me. If I am certain of anything it is that you boy, are not a King!"

I raised my chin in defiance, "I assure you sir, I am a King. The Narnians were not tricked; they believe me because they know what I say to be true. They would no sooner disown me, as I would them. I have ruled and known them for fifteen years."

"Aha!" Mr. Small crowed, pointing a fat finger in my direction, "You have not even been alive for fifteen years."

Kanell had heaved himself to his feet when Mr. Small started to speak and placed himself near me in case I needed defending. Other than that though, he seemed content to let me handle the situation. However he couldn't resist reiterating his point. "Time flows differently between here and Narnia."

Mr. Small put his hands on his hips and scoffed, "and just what is that supposed to mean?"

Sick of the provocation I growled out, "Simply put, the two worlds do not run in tandem with each other. Time can go backwards, forwards or stand still completely. You could enter one world and live a lifetime and exit to find that..." I sighed in remembrance, "No time had passed at all. That the world is exactly how you left it, and no one had even noticed that you were gone."

That had hurt us, to realise that, almost as much as leaving Narnia had hurt. Before we had begun to forget, before the memories of our birth world had begun to fade and before we only had the vaguest recollections of our mother and father, we had spent many nights' together, mourning and remembering. Mourning, it seems like a strange word to use, but that was what it was. We knew, or rather thought, that we would never leave Narnia and so our parents were lost to us as surely as if they were dead. For all we knew, they may well have been dead. The war was still on and we could all remember the nights of wondering, the fear and the fright, the shrillness of the air raid sirens, and the heat of flames. We remembered the scrambling through wreckages and the searching for friends amongst ruins where once houses stood. More then that though, we remembered the dread and the desperation. So we mourned.

We worried also, because if our parents were alive then what would they think of us? Had the Professor told them we were gone? Did they know we were alive? Were they searching for us? The guilt that the pain our absence had caused would not fade.

Yet that was not all, because though we were Kings and Queens in Narnia, we were also children, and we needed a mother and father. Susan and Peter not to the same extent as Lucy, or even I because they were already quite almost grown up, but Lucy was young enough still to long for a mothers presence. We had tried to act as a comfort to her and to an extent it had worked. We had grown closer then any siblings would think possible, but it was still hard. To tell the truth, I also struggled, but I hid it better. I had already let my anger and grief influence me badly before and I was weary of my temper. Still I think Peter knew, because he helped me in subtle ways work through my own loneliness. I have never been able to hide anything from Peter. He just knows me to well. I think that he knows me just as well as I know him.

Something in my tone or expression must have been telling because reason and understanding finally penetrated Mr .Smalls skull. His eyes widened, and he stumbled back two steps, pale and clutching his chest.

"My God, "he gasped, "My God... you're telling the truth!"

I nodded in confirmation. He looked faint.

"How... how..." breathed Mr. Small, whilst clutching his chest, "How is this possible? How can you be a King?"

"By the gift of Aslan, by election, by prescription and by conquest." Said Kanell, with all due pomp. Mr. Small seized on the words.

"By Conquest! You've been in a war Pevensie?"

I snorted, "I didn't get these scars by falling down the stairs." I said dismissively, and turned my attention back to Kanell.

Mr. Small sank down heavily on the park bench, breathing deeply. Some of my class mates piped up concern, not quite understanding the extent of his shock. I did understand, but had no time to act upon it, though I did feel a momentary pang of pity.

"How goes Narnia, good my cousin?"

Kanell glanced around at the eagerly listening crowd and led me slightly aside so that we wouldn't be overheard.

"Well enough Majesty. Economically we are sound, and military wise we are as well prepared and defended as ever. "I smirked slightly, as if anything else could be expected. "Calormen to the south and the giants to the north have been making some movement. Nothing has been done yet, but Your Majesties absence has made them bold."

I looked concerned, wondering if we would be thrust into a two fronted war, before motioning for him to continue.

"The biggest problem has been your disappearance. The days immediately following were... difficult."

That I knew to be an understatement. As diverse as our people were, they were unified in their love for us and for Aslan and Narnia. They were also fiercely loyal, and very protective. When we first fell through the wardrobe we had feared that civil war would break out. With animal blaming animal, and beast blaming beast until they turned to violence forgetting about love and tolerance, remembering instead old hatreds and enemies. When we fell back into Narnia we had thought that this had been the case when we saw the ruins of Cair Paravel. We had during our time there, found that this had not happened, had not even been close to happening, but still we knew it could not have been easy. I didn't want to think about that now though, so I turned my mind to other matters. I would be filled in, in detail, later.

"How is Phillip?" I asked, regarding my dearest friend.

Kanell grimaced, "Not well. He took your disappearance harder then anyone. Kept on blaming himself. He fell into depression, and it's all anyone can do to keep him from doing anything drastic. He is recovering now, but for a while..."

I nodded in understanding, "Get a message to him, get him into England and I'll make sure he gets better."

"As you command, Your Majesty." he said.

I looked around the Narnian retinue, looking for familiar faces.

"Who is running Narnia at the moment?"

"A combined effort from the General and Sir Giles Fox. King Lune has also being a great help, sending Prince Corin to aid us."

I laughed slightly, "Was he actually any help?" the picture of the rambunctious prince, clear in my mind.

Kanell laughed as well, "He certainly lightened the mood at least."

In all seriousness I knew that Corin was an honourable person and a fine prince. He would have been a fine help indeed to the more then capable Oreius and Sir Giles Fox. Although the trouble he surely would have got into would have caused more then a few grey hairs. Still I knew that Narnia had been in capable hands.

"I'll need to be briefed more in depth later as will the Valiant Queen." I noted.

Kanell raised an eyebrow and said in a slightly concerned voice, "What about the High King and the Gentle Queen?"

I sighed, remembering the situation, "They will need to be briefed as well...eventually, but at the moment they are a bit difficult to reach."

I am the master of the understatement.

Kanell was about to question me on what I meant, when there was a great fanfare of noise. I whirled around and stared in astonishment as what seemed to be a hundred security personnel descended on the area. There was a great amount of noise and clatter as a protesting crowd was pushed to the side, and kept well back, so that a large path was clear. The press started flashing cameras in eager anticipation and then through the crowd I saw a _very_ familiar face approaching us. Vaguely I noticed Mr. Small begin to hyperventilate.

"Captain!" The Prime Minister exclaimed jovially, as he reached us, "You ran out of the meeting in such a hurry after that delightful bat delivered that message. I'm afraid I became rather curious and decided I just had to find out what interested you so much." He turned to face me, "and who's this then? Are you excited about meeting a real life Centaur? I know I was. Still am in fact. I haven't got over the shock of it all, you see."

I stared incredulously at the man. This was the Prime Minister. He was very different to what I expected. Kanell cleared his throat.

"Your Majesty, may I present to you the Prime Minister of England. Prime Minister, My Lord Edmund, King of Narnia, Duke of Lantern Waste and Count of the Western March, Knight of the Noble Order of the Table etc."

As Kanell was speaking the Prime Minister straightened up somewhat and a glint of intelligence shone in his eye, and I realised that beneath the jovial exterior lay a very capable and dangerous man. Yet I felt no ill intent from him. Still I knew I did not want to make an enemy of him. At the end of the introduction the Prime Minister offered a small bow towards me, which was most definitely caught on camera, and I inclined slightly in turn. This was not just out of courtesy. I had always felt genuine respect for the man.

"Your Majesty, it is a pleasure to meet you. Am I to understand that you are the reason the meeting was interrupted?" the Prime Minister said.

I nodded, "I am. It was imperative that I made contact with the Narnians in some way. I have been somewhat estranged from my people for a time. Still, now that I have succeeded in becoming reunited with them, I will take over as head of the diplomatic team."

The Prime Minister seemed surprised by this, although he hid it very well. I think he thought that I would lead it in name only, and that all the real talks would be done by adults. He would be in for a surprise. They always were. I had distinct memories of being underestimated because of my youth. Those misconceptions did not last long, especially when rumours of our capabilities spread. At least the Prime Minister didn't seem like he would be condescending or rude, although I had always had fun putting those disrespectful dignitaries in their place.

A wheezing voice spoke up from behind us, "You can't head a diplomatic team. You are just a boy. You haven't even finished school."

It was Mr. Small, still flushed and slightly out of breath, but he seemed to be trying to put a grasp on the situation. He still looked like he was going to be sick though.

The Prime Minister frowned in concern, "Are you alright Sir. Do you require any assistance, a doctor perhaps?"

Mr. Small shook his head, "No Sir...err Prime Minister, I'm...I am fine. It's just a bit of shock. Mr. Pevensie... I mean, King Edmund is one of my students... to find that he is a King is well..." he trailed off.

The Prime Minister smiled sympathetically, "Yes, I can see how that can be a bit of a shock, but wait he is your student, that doesn't make any sense."

He turned an inquiring gaze on me. I shrugged, "I was born in England." I said simply, by way of explanation. The Prime Minister gazed questioningly, but I didn't deign to elaborate further. I knew he would find out the whole story eventually, but for now there were more pressing matters.

"I understand you were in a meeting before. Perhaps it would be advisable to continue, and I can be filled in on what has been discussed so far?"

"Quite right, quite right. There is a lot to do still, and not a lot of time to do it in, but then there never is. We'll head back right away."

I made to go with them, but Mr. Small protested, "What about the school trip?"

I stared incredulously at him, and Kanell stamped his hoof in irritation, "I think I may have more important things to do then a school trip!"

Mr. Small made an effort to stand upright and strong, but wilted under the glare that Kanell was sending him, "You are my responsibility, Mr. Peve... Your Majesty."

Kanell crossed his arms and stared down at the significantly shorter (because Kanell was tall even by the standards of centaurs) Mr. Small, "May I remind you, that you recently raised your hand to my liege."

Mr. Small had the grace to blush, "err yes, perhaps I let my temper get away with me quite a bit, and for that I apologise, although I will say the corporal punishment is quite legal. I will defend myself and say that even if the strike had hit, it would not have caused any damage, or even hurt for that long. I may have been mad, but I have never hurt a child, nor do I ever intend to. I am not that cruel."

Kanell turned an inquiring gaze on me and I confirmed what he had said. As someone who had been on the receiving end of many a punishment, some of which I had justly earned (before I came back from Narnia at least), I knew that Mr. Small was being honest. His punishments never hurt for more then a few minutes. He was rude and loud and somewhat insulting (at least to those students he didn't like) but he was never abusive. I have no doubt that if that hit had landed, I wouldn't even have a light bruise. I said as much.

Kanell said, "Be that as it may. You are not stopping His Majesty."

Mr. Small was beginning to get a bit more confident and he argued, "I am responsible for him. I can not just let him wonder off all by himself. As long as he is on this trip, he is under my guardianship. I do not care if he is a King or not. His mother trusts us to look after him."

The Prime Minister interceded, "Surely this is a special circumstance and you can leave him with me. I can assure you that nothing will happen to him."

"No. I can not do that. He is my responsibility. Edmund...His Majesty has placed himself in my guardianship. You signed a Code of Conduct remember."

Blast! I forgot about that Code. All the boys in the year had to sign it in order to go on the trip. It was as the name suggests a contract ensuring we would behave in an acceptable manner on the trip. It even had provisions for staying with the chaperone, in this case Mr. Small. Legally, a contract couldn't be binding on someone my age in this country, but damn it all. I am a King. My word is everything. I wouldn't be able to get out of it.

"Mr. Small, I have to go to this meeting. Surely you understand that?"

"I do, but I have to take my responsibility seriously. King or no, like it or no, you are one of my charges."

I sighed, trying to think of something to do, but we were at an impasse.

Kanell cleared his throat, "If I may make a suggestion. Perhaps the class trip can be altered. Instead of a trip to... where was it that you are going? Right, instead of a trip to Buckingham Palace, the class can instead visit the Prime Ministers residence. I'm sure that will be very exciting to them, and that way my King may attend the meeting and you will be in the same building as him thus fulfilling your obligations towards both class and King. Would that be acceptable?"

Mr. Small mulled this over, before hesitantly nodding. Excited whispering broke out in the class at the opportunity to go inside Downing Street. This was turning out to be the best class trip ever.

The Prime Minister clapped his hands together, "Right, excellent. I'm glad that's all sorted. Shall we go then?"

The crowd and reporters watched as me, the Prime Minister of England, Captain Kanell, a whole slew of security personnel, the present Narnians, and a group of English school boys made our way out of the park and towards the house of one of the most powerful men in the world.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Thank you all very much for your patience in waiting for this chapter. For months I had the most awful writers block, which is absolutely no excuse. I only got over it a couple of weeks ago. I have to apologise also that certain points of this chapter might not be up to usual standards. Twice in the last few days my computer shut down on me, causing me to lose part of the story, which I then had to reconstruct. The worst part was that one of the times it was on a section of the story where I was using very complex and particular language. It had taken me an hour to write that small section and then it was lost and I had to try and rewrite it as best as I could. Hopefully the rewrites though were as good as the original, although I doubt that. Anyway, I decided to put our what I have written before I lose any more.

AN2: It occurred to me that I haven't actually said (although it makes it more realistic) that the story is based after WW2 has ended. This is because I find it hard to believe that Susan would holiday in America during the war period, so seeing as I have compacted the time line, it made sense to move the time line up a few years.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Chronicles of Narnia. I do own a wardrobe. Sadly there is no mystical land hidden in it.

* * *

As soon as we entered Downing Street the rest of my class were separated and taken on a tour, Mr. Small with them. I was sure that he would have wished to come with me, but one look from the stern centaur had disabused him of that notion and he had to content himself, with the knowledge that I was at least in the same building as him. I was sure that I wouldn't have seen the last of him for that day.

The Prime Minister walked towards the room where they had been meeting before I had interrupted, but stopped before entering. He said, "I gather that you have been somewhat estranged from your country for a while?"

I paused and looked up in surprise. The Prime Minister laughed, "Don't be so surprised, my boy! It was not so difficult to work out. The good centaur's reaction to your message would have been enough, but the fact that I had not heard mention of you before hand, and the fact that you go to school in England, well, I am not unintelligent."

He went on, "What I meant by it of course, is that you will need to be filled in on things before we get down to business. Perhaps we can reschedule our meeting for later this afternoon? That will allow you time to at least get the basics of things sorted."

I considered this. Obviously the Prime Minister was a busy man and I did need to be briefed, but I did not want to delay possibly necessary negotiations. In the end though, I had to concede to reason. The Prime Minister could not wait and I could not be of any use until I had more information. I agreed with the Prime Minister and he left, agreeing to meet again after lunch. I did have to wonder what work he must have been postponing to meet with us, but then it wasn't everyday that one meets with creatures out of myth and legend.

Walking into the room, I was struck first with the amount of paper scattered about. The second thing I noticed was the presence of a small rabbit, who until the moment of our entrance had been busy hopping from seat to seat trying to collect and sort the papers. The moment we entered though the rabbit froze, its ear perked up, and its eyes widened. It stared at the large group for a full 10 seconds before abruptly diving behind a plant pot and out of sight, but for its fluffy white tail.

Kanell sighed, and walked around the room to the plant pot and said, "Miss Jane, come out of there at once. There is absolutely no reason to hide."

"But there are so many of them." A timid voice replied.

Kanell reached down and with his big hands lifted her into the air and deposited her on the table. He placed his hand gently over her neck and shoulders. It was not a threatening gesture but it did establish who was higher in ranking for the rabbit. Her large eyes darted around the room, but she did not try and run again.

"None of them are enemies, or seek to harm you."

"Are you sure, Sir? They all seem so big and threatening, and none of them are family." said Jane Rabbit.

I, used to the ways of rabbits stepped forward and bent down to her level. She shrank back and I tried to smile reassuringly. "Good my cousin. Am I not your family?"

She wriggled her nose slightly and looked at me in confusion, "I do not think so. You are not a rabbit!"

I made a show of looking over myself and then grinned. "No I suppose I am not, though that doesn't make me any less your family."

She seemed to be overcoming her natural inclination to fear everything and said in argument, "But I have never met you, so you cannot be family!"

I laughed, "Yet I consider every creature in Narnia my family whether they have met me or not."

She took a hesitant step forward and sniffed me. "Who are you?" she asked in confusion.

"I am King Edmund."

She stopped her sniffing and once again seemed to freeze. Then she gave my forehead a little lick before twisting her head sideways and flinging the rest of her body into line so that her feet flew out to the side. In rabbit culture it meant that she established my dominance and showed how completely relaxed in my presence she was. This was a very good sign as she obviously believed me. Then again, the presence of Kanell was probably a good source of proof.

I did not have the time to further reassure the timid creature though, so instead I said, "Have you a pen and paper, Miss Jane?"

She got up at once and hopped to a small pile, returning with a pen and a few pieces of paper. I smiled in thanks and began to squall out a note. My handwriting had never been good, but it was neater without having to work with a quill. Whilst I had missed the heavy, comforting parchment, I gladly adjusted to the use of a proper pen.

Once finished, I looked to Sa'ra Mivven, "Are you up for a journey, Lady?"

"Indeed I am, Your Majesty."

I held up the topmost letter. It was unsealed, but my signature was worth any seal in value.

"Conduct this letter into the trust of either the good General or Sir Giles Fox. Do not let anyone else have it first. They will know how best to conduct the news without creating a mass exodus into this world or a panic."

She bobbed her head and took the letter, before taking off out a window. I then turned my attention to the centaur, who was waiting attentively.

"Kanell!"

"Yes, Majesty?"

"Do we have any in the current retinue capable of going on a long search in a strange land?"

He looked at me strangely, but all credit to him, he answered promptly. "We have a single Gryphon, who goes by the name, Guthrie. Should you require it, I can request more."

I thought for a moment. Not withstanding my worry for my brother, could we afford to send out more then one? Truthfully I didn't know. I didn't know the state of Narnia, and so could not in good conscience empty it of possibly needed defences. It was a problem I needed to rectify and quickly. It wasn't like the first time I had started to rule the land. Then I had known if not understood the straits of the land. They had just come out of war and winter after all. This time, though it had only been a year, anything could have happened, although I could console myself that Kanell wouldn't have waited to tell me if anything major had occurred.

I also had to consider the opinions of the country I was in. So far England had seemed pretty amiable to the Narnians, but would that amiability allow for troops of Gryphons to come in. The answer was probably a no. It would seem too much like an invasion, and though that would be the very last intention of any Narnian, they were not to know that.

Realistically, I also knew that Peter wasn't in any danger, and that to send out troops after him would not be the wisest idea. Peter had waited a year for the Narnians; surely he wouldn't mind waiting a few more weeks?

I shook my head at Kanell, "No that won't be necessary."

"May I ask what the Gryphon is needed for?"

I hesitated. Kanell wouldn't be happy with what I was saying, but he trusted my judgement and he would follow my commands, no matter how much he disagreed.

"Peter is off on a survival trip. What that means is none of us knows precisely where he is. Since he will wish to know about the portal, we need to locate him."

Kanell pursed his lips, "We should send more..."

I forestalled him, "We would ruin any and all diplomatic efforts if we did that. My brother is in no danger."

"Forgive me Sire, but your brother is always in danger."

I opened my mouth to argue, but then thought better of what I was going to say. I smiled wryly, "alright no serious danger. I don't think that there is anything in Wales that Peter isn't perfectly capable of taking care of."

At least, that was what I hoped. Peter did have the nasty habit of getting into trouble where there ought naught to be any.

Kanell was not happy with my pronouncement but said to a waiting tigress, "Alert Guthrie of His Majesty's orders. Instruct him that discretion on this task is necessary and that he should search with all possible haste."

I hastily added in, "But if he has not found Peter by the end of seventeen days then cease searching. Peter's trip will be over by then."

The tigress flexed her paws and stretched lazily, nodding once in my direction before leaving to deliver her message.

I turned once more to the remaining message on my desk, before lifting it up.

"I need this message sent to Susan, quite urgently. She is in America at the moment and..."

"I apologise, Your Majesty, but where is this 'America'." Kanell interrupted smoothly.

"Err," I said forgetting my normal eloquence, as I struggled to explain something on which knowledge of I had always taken for granted. I had the sudden insight that the Narnians had probably felt the same way when I had first come to Narnia, but had not let on at all how trying it was. I had probably not helped them either. That helped me recover myself.

"America is a place across a vast ocean. It takes five days by ship to get there, but it is much faster to send a message, and that is what we are going to do."

"How do you send messages?"

"Either by telephone – You can have conversations over great distances with that, or by telegraph- you send written messages over distances almost instantly. I've written this message to send to Susan, although I am sure that she already knows about it," unless she has chosen to become completely ignorant during her trip abroad. That was something that I would not put past her, with the way she had been acting in the past months.

Another cat took the message and left to have it dispatched.

"Have we started talks with any other nation – wait, I can guess the answer. We will need to do so as soon as possible. Probably best to start with America, what with Susan being out there." I mused out loud. The others hung onto my every word, waiting for instruction. I had missed the knowledge that my opinion mattered to people. Not only mattered, but were respected. In England I was more likely to be laughed off or deemed presumptuous.

I turned abruptly frightening the poor rabbit, when my gaze fell on her, "Miss Jane, is it your purpose on this diplomatic embassy to be used as a secretary?"

The timid thing gave a little nod.

"I'm sure you are doing a terrific job. Fetch me some more paper if you will, and whilst I write this letter, continue with your other duties. The rest of you, please sit down. I will be finished shortly."

Miss Jane did so, and the rest of them, who had been standing on ceremony, relaxed. I needed to fall back into the role of King and quickly. How had I forgotten that no one would sit or do anything in my presence without permission?

In any event I pulled the paper towards me and began to write, the courtly prose flowing without effort or deep thought. The message however was of some importance.

_Edmund, by the gift of Aslan, by election, by prescription, and by conquest, King of Narnia, Duke of Lantern Waste, and Count of the Western March, Knight of the Noble Order of the Table etc., to The President of the United States of America, Greeting. _

I paused, wondering if that sounded pretentious or archaic. It probably was both, I decided, but the man had never heard of me, and it was necessary for me to state my position from the first. I could write slightly (although not much) less formally for the rest of the letter though. The language I would otherwise use would take a time to interpret, and would not be appreciated. I put my pen to paper again.

_By now Sir, the presence of the Narnians must have assuredly spread to your side of the ocean, to which there must be some confusion and concern, for we have come out of nowhere and there is little knowledge on us. My people, being not of this world and being not Sons of Adam or Daughters of Eve are similarly lacking in knowledge of both culture and people. To this end, it is our pleasure and wish, to open up negotiations with all peace loving nations of this world, to prevent the abominable creation of war, and to promote open communications and trade. It is our hope that in doing so, both our nations stand to better and enrich themselves._

_To this end, I must now inform you that our entirely-beloved and royal sister Susan, Queen equal to us in Narnia, Duchess of Galma and Lady of Cair Paravel etc. is at this time present in your noble country, and has full power of determining with said country the terms and conditions of a treaty. It is our hope that you will extend every courtesy and protection to Her Majesty during her stay in your lands._

I quickly wrote the location that Susan could be found at, sure that they would get the missive before Susan did and ended the letter with a flourish. This was slightly unnecessary because of course, the message was being sent by telegram, which, looking at even my best writing was probably a good thing.

I handed the message to a pigeon, who flapped off to deliver it, and turned to face my waiting subjects. I leant back in my chair and waved my hand in signal for us to begin.

It was a faun who I recognised vaguely who spoke first. Unsurprisingly he asked the question that must have been on everyone's minds. I had hoped that they wouldn't worry about that until later.

"What happened to Your Majesties?"

He was probably referring to both my age and my disappearance. I didn't want to answer, because it still hurt, but I knew that they deserved to know, and I am not one to shy from what I know is right and, for lack of a better word, _just_.

"It was not intended." I began, knowing that that was probably their main concern and fear. "We did not mean to leave, nor to abandon our subjects. In answer though, when chasing the white stag we came across an old lamp post, and, like a far gone memory we remembered that the place was of significance to us, and we felt a pull. We followed it, through trees and bush and shrubbery, until the trees and bush and shrubbery gave way to coats and the hard wood of an old wardrobe, which we then remembered was how we entered Narnia to begin with. We were back in our original world and it was as if we had never left. Indeed we might have assumed it was but a dream but for the scars, and sheer clarity of the memories that no dream could produce. My only consolation then and more so now, is that if it happened it was because Aslan willed it to happen. I can not tell you why, because I deem that it is not Aslan's will for the people of Narnia to know why. The only thing I will tell you is that Narnia needed us in another time and for us to get there we had to leave. We did not think that we would ever get to go back again. Certainly we knew that we had to adjust to this world."

I shook off my thoughts certain that I would have time to analyse them more closely later, when we were not so short on time. I decided to direct the discussion onto things of more relevance.

"Tell me, what headway have we made so far in negotiations?"

Kanell cleared his throat and said roughly, "Not much. At first there was a lot of fear and wariness. The government wanted to make certain that it was not us that had caused the portal and we in turn were uneasy about this world with its strange machinery. Then after we were both assured of our peaceful intentions, there had to be information exchanged on the nature of our two countries so that we can know how to best move forward. We were planning on starting the real business today, when your missive arrived, and so once again we are delayed. I suppose that is the nature of diplomacy though."

I smiled wryly. Don't I know that! You can spend a week talking and not really saying anything at all. More often then not, it is what isn't said that is of more importance. Every single word had so many meanings that it was a wonder that anything was understood at all. I simply thrived in that environment.

Peter could never get a handle on it, much to my amusement. Neither could Lucy actually, although Susan was surprisingly good at it. This was why I trusted her with the Americans, despite how silly she had been behaving recently.

"Do we yet know why the Portal was opened?"

"No, Your Majesty."

I frowned although I had expected the answer. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and tilted my head back, thinking.

I then said, "It is no matter. Aslan has a purpose which I am sure we will figure out in time, or else he will reveal it to us. The point is he will want us to act with what knowledge we have."

They all nodded in agreement, and discussion turned to the state of Narnia. Happily, it turned out that the threats that Kanell had informed me about earlier seemed to be mere grumblings, and even if they weren't Narnia was more then equipped to handle any problems. Apart from our disappearance, Narnia seemed to be in excellent condition. From that, I surmised that whatever the purpose of the portal, it was this world, rather then the world of my home and people that was in need.

We talked long and hard, striving to fill me in on as much detail before we met with the Prime Minister, until at last Kanell glanced at me firmly.

"May I suggest, Your Majesty, that we take a short break for some food?"

I glanced at my watch and saw, to my surprise, that it was already passed midday and that we had been in discussion for a few hours. I was reluctant to stop however, because we were on very limited time.

I said as much, and Kanell issued me a very stern glare and said warningly, "Sir How."

Belatedly, I realised that Kanell had never tolerated me missing any meal for whatever reason, and could be quite creative in our training sessions when I was so foolish as to forget to eat. It wasn't my fault though. I simply considered food unimportant compared to what I was usually working on. Now drink; drink was another matter.

I agreed reluctantly, and figured that I had enough material to go on, before suddenly smirking rather mischievously.

"Kanell, what do you say to eating with my class. I dare say that they are probably having lunch right about now as well."

Kanell looked at me askance but followed me out of the room anyway. My grin widened, as I thought about my classmates. Then I frowned. I think I have been spending way to much time with the dwarves.

Then again, it was going to be fun.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: All right, so I was procrastinating on my NaNoWriMo (10000 words behind and slowly falling ever further), and decided, maybe writing something else (which isn't an essay for uni – those keep building) would help. It is poor logic, I know, but it means that you all get a chapter, even if it is only a short one. So after numerous doughnuts (on sale) I got to writing, and hopefully you all will enjoy it.

AN2: Also, really annoyingly, I went to upload this chapter and I lost internet all throughout the block for 40 minutes...

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia. I am just a poor student. This means that I could never have enough money to buy the rights to it, even if I thought I was deserving of C.S. Lewis's wonderful world.

* * *

It wasn't hard to find the class, even in such an unfamiliar place. All I had to do was follow the noise. Teenagers, as you must surely know, are notoriously noisy, and even more so, if they have something exciting to talk about.

I'm pretty sure that meeting a bunch of mythical creatures and finding out your classmate is a King, qualifies as exciting.

For a few seconds I stood outside the door (guarded by the presence of some armed security, which were absolutely everywhere in the building – a stark reminder that the war was only just over), wondering if facing my class so soon was such a good idea. Then I shook myself, reminded myself that I was not a coward and would not hide, squared my shoulders and walked in.

I wasn't quite expecting the scene which hit me when I entered the room. They were in what passed as the living room, with a handful of sofas, a little table (pushed to the side), a few bookshelves, and the rest of the usual things that one would find in a normal house. My class were sprawled all over the floor, happily munching on sandwiches and slurping on juice, whilst shouting over each other in order to make themselves heard. My teacher was sitting calmly on the couch, with the parent chaperones that had volunteered to come on the trip. This was expected.

What was not expected was the sight of the Prime Minister sitting with them.

My eyes narrowed. I could only think of one reason that the Prime Minister would be sitting on the sofa, when I expected him to be working. He clearly wanted to find out information. Specifically he wanted to find out information about me.

Really, I couldn't blame him. I would want to find out information about me if I was in his position, but it did rankle to be so blatantly spied on. I may be used to it, and even done it myself on occasions, but it didn't mean I liked it.

It also didn't help, that I was pretty sure that my teachers were not exactly saying good things about me. They likely enough, were saying all about the time that I was most assuredly the beastliest boy that had ever graced their hallways.

Still, as the class became aware of my presence and quietened down, I hid my annoyance with long standing practice and pasted a warm smile on my face. The Prime Minister quickly got up off his seat, excusing himself from the conversation and hurried over to me.

"Ah, Your Majesty. I see you have finished your meeting then?"

I thought for a second. Did I know everything I needed to know? No, I did not, and likely I wouldn't until I had been into Narnia itself, but did I know enough to proceed? I thought I did, and said as much to the Prime Minister.

He clasped his hands in front of him, "Excellent, excellent. Would you be opposed to continuing discussions now?"

I opened my mouth just as my stomach growled, and the Prime Minister tilted back his head and laughed. I couldn't stop the flush of embarrassment. Kanell put a hand on my shoulder in support.

"I suppose we can wait until you have eaten something. I know boys your age are perpetually hungry and I don't think being a King makes one bit of difference to that."

"I think you might be right?" I said with a wry grin.

"Why don't we continue in half an hour instead? I can get some paperwork done in the mean time."

I quickly agreed and with a nod of the head, the Prime Minister bustled out of the room, presumably to do that paperwork.

I was left standing at the centre of attention of an eagerly watching class.

Well, I was used to been the centre of attention, and just because these boys were my peers did not mean that I couldn't hold myself to the same standards that I always did. There was absolutely no reason at all to be nervous.

Plus, there was a reason I decided to bring Kanell along. I only hoped that he hadn't guessed my reasons. I rather suspected that he had not, but you can never tell with him.

I took a deep breath and made my way over to the sofas where the teachers were sitting. I didn't want to set myself a part from the class, but the fact remained that I was a King, and had to remind them of that, and whether or not it is true, King's in their minds, do not sit on floors.

Why had I thought this would be fun? It was much more like meeting the dwarves for the first time. It felt rather like I had to prove myself to them and I did not like that feeling.

But, if I were being judged, then it stood that I could not allow them to think little of me. With that thought in mind, I centred myself, just the way I had been taught and calmed the twisting in my guts. I leaned back in my chair, smiled languidly, like a great cat, and waited for the interrogation to begin.

* * *

Peter was not happy. Scratch that, he was miserable. It was bad enough that he had to be so far away from Edmund, (and that was bad because Peter knew, just _knew_ that Edmund wasn't coping well), that he could manage because he was perfectly aware that he would be with Lucy within a few days and Lucy always was able to cheer him up. No, what made him miserable was quite simply that it was raining.

It had been raining non-stop since he had arrived in Wales and Peter was heartily sick of it. It wasn't a heavy down pore, more like a constant drizzle, but that didn't matter, because after several days of it all of his things, despite being waterproof were thoroughly soaked.

It didn't help, that they had passed several places which would have served as a shelter. Peter had pointed them out, but the other boys had decided that they wanted to press on as far as they could, despite the rain, so that they could spend a few days in a hotel before going home.

Peter didn't like to think badly of other people, but he couldn't help but bitterly think that the other boys were to put it frankly, idiots.

He smiled slightly at that thought. Edmund would be calling Peter an idiot for not ordering them to stop if they were in Narnia.

That was just it though. They weren't in Narnia, and Peter couldn't order them to do anything. He had tried pointing out to them that it was no use anyone getting sick (and if the rain kept up, Peter was pretty sure that the anyone was likely enough to be him – he already had the beginnings of a sniffle), but the other boys wouldn't listen and had just called him a sissy. Peter didn't really care what they called him, but he couldn't force them to follow his lead.

Peter was also quite certain that they were going the wrong way. That he wouldn't point out though, unless he thought they wouldn't be able to figure it out in time to finish by the deadline, since he didn't want to give away that he had superior skills that he, as a city boy, just shouldn't have.

It was a hard thing to do though, because every time one of the boys suggested doing something monumentally stupid, he would think that if Oreius knew what he was doing, he would send Peter on laps round the castle until his legs fell off. Peter did his best to dissuade them from the worst ideas, and in that he was somewhat successful, but still Peter knew that if Oreius knew how long he had been in the rain for (especially since he knew how easily sick Peter got), he would be furious.

Edmund would be even angrier.

Peter smiled at the thought of his brother, and his mood was temporarily improved.

That is until they yet again passed another shelter.

* * *

AN: Right, so that is another chapter. Relatively short, but like I said, out earlier than planned.

I'd just at this point like to say, that at the moment the **Narnian Revolution Forum** is hosting its annual **Revolution Awards**, and they are still accepting nominations. There are some wonderful stories which need some support to get on the list, and I strongly entreat you all to go on and nominate (and then vote in a few days time). A link can be found on my profile. Even if you don't wish to nominate, it is a fabulous website to find out where some truly quality fics are.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: This chapter turned out very different to how I planned it. Originally meant to be light-hearted, it took a life of its own, and suddenly became a lot more introspective. That's what I love about writing though.

Disclaimer: I don't own a wardrobe...wait, yes I do. It just doesn't have a magical world inside of it, but then you never enter Narnia the same way twice.

* * *

To my everlasting surprise, my class did not start on with a spew of annoying questions, shouted at me, with voices raised in an effort to be heard over each other. Instead, they stared in a mixture of confusion, and if I had not missed my mark, awe. It had not occurred to me that boys who had formerly scorned me would now look at me like that. I hadn't realised that unconsciously my bearing had changed to what it always had been, and stopped hiding behind the schoolboy body which I had tried so hard to embrace. They knew me as Edmund, a former bully and odd peer. They had difficulty reconciling that image with the King sat before them.

Unsurprisingly it was Mr. Small who broke the awkward silence that had descended as I slowly chewed a sandwich. As my teacher he found the jump even harder. From a student, and he my superior, I had suddenly transformed into a King before his eyes, and thus subject to no one's will but my own, (he did not yet know that Peter was High King and all of us are subjects to the law of Aslan). He did not know how to address me, or whether he even should, not knowing the etiquette of royalty. Nevertheless he made a valiant effort to make some sense out of an impossible situation.

"Mr. Peve... err, Your Majesty?" he began and I raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement, still chewing on that sandwich. He gulped before continuing.

"We, that is, we have had time to consider this...err, situation, and though it is beyond us, and, well, whilst we can understand travelling to another world..."

The expression on his face made it clear that he did not truly understand even that concept.

"...well, that is to say, we don't quite get how you managed to become King. The explanation you gave earlier was somewhat lacking."

I swallowed my sandwich, and looked around the room. Everyone, bar Kanell (who was standing patiently and as implacable as always) was staring with eager, waiting faces, on rounded, youthful faces. Even the teachers and chaperones (who were older than I had been when I left Narnia) were youthful to my eyes. What should I say to them? What could I say to them? I could not and would not lie, but how much would they truly understand? They were in a world of steel and Narnia was a world of the deep magic. They were not so different, but different enough to make it difficult.

But I looked at them, and knew that they deserved an explanation as full as I could give them. They had known me from before, and I don't think they could truly respect me unless they knew just how much I had changed. They needed to know of the experiences that had shaped me into the Just King I was; the Just King that I still am.

So I took a deep breath, and started talking. I didn't tell them everything. It would take too long to do that, and there were some things that they did not _need _to know. There were some things so intensely personal and private that I hoped no one would ever know. There were some things I wished I did not know, but as Aslan said 'What is said, is said, and what is in the past cannot be undone.' He also said, 'that there is no need to talk to him about what is past'. He, as in anything was right in that. Some things cannot be healed by talk. Peter never talked. He didn't need to. I refuse to talk about it, especially to people who are so far removed from my family and self.

So I talked. I talked uninterrupted almost to the point of my meeting with the Prime Minister. I told them of the evacuation. I told them of the Professor and the Macready. I told them of the wardrobe, and Lucy and Tumnus. I told them of the winter and the war. I told them of Aslan, whose name seemed to touch them with the same feeling of unknowing joy as it had always done to me.

I told them of my betrayal.

I would not hide from it. I would not lie. It was who I had been, and not who I am, but it had changed me almost as much as Aslan had. I am not one to shy from the truth however ugly it might be. I am a traitor. I am also redeemed.

When I was done telling of everything of import, to all of them who had listened, not daring to interrupt, I blinked, and looked down at my half-eaten sandwich and saw that it was almost mush in my hand. I looked up and around searching for my equilibrium. It had been so very difficult talking about something that almost everyone in Narnia had already known. I looked and saw Kanell watching me with his cool expression. He nodded his head in my direction, and did nothing else. That acknowledgement was enough.

I turned back to the class who were slowly breaking out of their trance.

"You were a traitor?" one boy dared to ask, and I nodded once.

"I was."

My admission, said so matter-of-factly, seemed to disgust the boy who reeled back, absorbed as he was in his own black and white world.

He was not the only one to seem so disgusted, as half the class changed their expression from awe at royalty to one of hatred. Ironically, Mr. Small was not one of them. Maybe it was the fact that he was an adult, but he was one of the few to realise that I would not have admitted it so openly if I was still the traitor, and that more importantly I would not have such loyalty from the Narnians if they didn't believe me worthy of it.

Kanell seemed to take offence from the looks these boys were given me, because he took a step forward and looked down at the sitting boys from his impressive height. Looking so big and disapproving he half terrified the boys.

"He has more than made up for that treachery that he first committed. He liberated us from oppression, united us with innocent creatures that would have been cast in the same dark stroke as their fell brethren, bled for us, and _sacrificed _himself for us. Do not presume to look down upon him."

"Peace, Kanell," I said, trying hard not to show how moved I was by his uncharacteristic display of emotion, and touched by his loyalty to me, which led him to such an outpour.

I said to the class, and said earnestly, "I will not defend myself, for what I did is not defensible. However, if the people that I lead do not judge me for it, then I think you, who were not the victims of my betrayal, can do no less than they. I could ask that you respect me, and that you realise how changed I am, but I think that you would demand proof and that I cannot give. I must only hope that my actions prove proof enough. But whether or not you like me, or even respect me as a person, you _will _respect my position. I am not just Edmund the schoolboy, but Edmund the Just and King of Narnia, Knight of the Order of the Table whose motto is Sacrifice. You might not respect me, but by Aslan you will respect that!"

With that I got up, and headed towards the door, leaving my contemplating class in my wake.

It was time for my meeting with the Prime Minister.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Alright, another chapter. It is definitely not my best one, but I needed to get it out and finished. I would really appreciate constructive criticism on this one as I struggled with it.

Disclaimer: I do own a wardrobe. I don't own Narnia.

* * *

The room which I was led to, was much the same as the one I had been in earlier that day, only this one was filled to the brim with people as well as the Narnian delegation. The Prime Minister greeted me jovially and introduced me to several people including the foreign secretary, who was very interested in all of the Narnians. Then I was led to a chair, and Kanell stood next to me, and Jane the Rabbit sat on the table on the other side of me, and handed me a stack of papers, before hopping off the table and hiding behind a rubbish bin. Kanell looked like he wanted to rub the bridge of his nose but he settled for a long suffering sigh at her actions.

Then the negotiations started in earnest. I immediately realised that the Prime Minister was good. Frightfully good in fact, and he had a clever staff behind him. If I wasn't as experienced as I was, then I might have given away half of Narnia's resources without even realising. The thing about Narnia was, it was rich in natural resources, which was invaluable to a country that was recovering from a war.

Still, as much sympathy as I did have for the country, I was not about to be hoodwinked into doing something that would not be to Narnia's advantage. It helped that as clever and as talented as the Prime Minister was, I was not without my fair share of tricks.

Which was why, as I listened to the Prime Minister talk, most of my attention was firmly (but unnoticeable) fixed on the descent of a tiny creature, dangling from a silken rope. It had been in the room from before I had entered, and it had covertly made its way down from the ceiling. The creature was in the perfect position to see the notes that the Prime Minister had in front of him.

After a while, I lost sight of the creature as I became lost in the quick to and froes between the two sides. I needed every one of my wits to keep up with the double meanings and clever wordplay, but I was not called silver-tongued for nothing, and I could see that the English were starting to sit up in their chairs and take me much more seriously.

My true advantage came when I felt something small and hairy go underneath the hem of my trousers, and begin climbing up my leg. Only years of experience prevented me from reacting to the tickling sensation. Instead I kept an eager expression on my face, even as the tiny spider emerged at the back of my neck, hid in my hair and whispered.

Inwardly though, I couldn't stop myself from grinning.

* * *

There was a scrambling of chairs as the negotiations for the day were finished, and everyone went to shake hands with their counterparts. It had been rather productive, although nothing had been decided on, except that England would quite like to impose a limit on travel between the two worlds until the reason for the Portal had been established. I had not argued much with that, because really it was quite a sensible precaution. However, I did object and strongly to allowing scientists to experiment on the Portal. My knowledge on such magic might not be great, but I know enough to realise that in such instances science has very little reckoning on the way it works. Still, I suspected that the Prime Minister might insist in order to progress any further, in which case I would have to come up with a compromise or risk breaking down relations. Perhaps, if I had Narnians involved in the process it might limit the risk. A few Centaurs would probably be best.

When we left the room and returned to our own room to debrief on the meeting before finishing for the day, I allowed the spider to scramble out from my hair and into my hands. I couldn't help but grin down at her as I clasped her gently.

"Well, Almana, I did not expect to see you. I thought you had decided to leave your chosen career."

Almana lifted up one leg slowly, and said in a low, whispering voice, "I couldn't, Your Majesty. There is something thrilling about being unseen. It's like dangling by a thread, where one false move will get you squished like a bug, and the prey is so rewarding."

I felt a thrill go up my spine as I always did when Almana spoke like that. She was an excellent spy, but she was always so morbidly chilling. She took such delight in everything she did, no matter how cruel or dangerous. I could only be thankful that she was so firmly on our side. Her poisonous words and cunning thought would be too dangerous for anyone else to make use of.

There was a knock on the door and without any prompting Almana was up my schoolboy sleeve, and a cheetah was by my side, a low, threatening rumble just behind his throat. Kanell opened the door and there stood Mr. Small.

He cleared his throat hesitantly and looked at a clock, "Your Majesty, it is late and we have to get back to the school."

I didn't even hesitate before saying, "Mr. Small, I cannot go back to school. Not now. I have to be back here first thing tomorrow, and more importantly my sister needs to know that I have made contact with our people."

Mr. Small looked ready to argue and I forestalled him, "There is one more thing, and this Sir, you will not be able to argue with."

He looked interested and I took a deep breath, "My mother, Sir. She does not know about my time in Narnia, and I would not have her find out by newspaper. I must get home tonight."

He nodded once and said with a frown, "You are right. I cannot let you guy by yourself though."

I had in the time since this morning managed to think of a solution to this problem, "Once the others are on the coach, you will not need so many adults. One of you may accompany me to my house if you wish. Either way, I will be going home tonight."

Mr. Small seemed to think about this for a moment, before he nodded his head. "I think that is an acceptable solution. I will accompany the class to the coach and once they are on the way I will escort you home. If you will be ready to leave in ten minutes?"

I agreed and Mr. Small hurriedly exited.

Kanell looked at me, "How will you be getting to your mother's house, Your Majesty?"

"I presume a car...oh!" I began unthinkingly before looking at Kanell. Kanell most definitely would not fit in a car.

Kanell ruffled my hair affectionately, "I will remain behind. You must be free to move and since I cannot accompany you, I must trust in the competence of my soldiers."

He looked at the Cheetah, "Faraz, I am trusting you with the King. Will you guard him?"

"With my life," he growled, and his tail swished behind him.

Almana came out the neck of my shirt and settled on my shoulder. I went to pick her up but she whispered into my ear, "I'm staying with you."

I didn't argue with her, but allowed her to once again settle into my hair, and waited for Mr. Small to return.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed. It was quite encouraging and I now have some idea on how to tackle some of the difficulties that I came across in the last chapter. Hopefully you will all enjoy this next chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own a magical land in a wardrobe. I don't own Narnia either.

* * *

The journey to my house was a quick one, and interesting as well. We had a police escort all the way, so that we were not at all slowed by traffic. The police cars held various other Narnians assigned to my guard, including a particularly grumpy black dwarf, and a paranoid faun. I travelled with Faraz, curled up in the back seat next to me, his tail swishing from side to side as he sat in completely misleading relaxation. Almana remained in my hair. The thing that made my journey interesting was the creature sitting in the front seat of the car. He was a goose called Aquila. Now, I am not prejudiced against any of my subjects. All of them have their virtues and their faults. However, geese tend to be of a very, let's just say _difficult _nature. Most of the time I find it quite amusing, except when their difficult natures cause problems for me, normally in the form of disputes over land, or insults against their dignity. You see, geese have abominable tempers, and they are proud to boot, so when they feel that they have been insulted, they are want to attack. Quite often, the slight is entirely imagined. Yet, they are highly loyal and protective over what they consider their own. I, as their King, most definitely fall into that category.

Aquila was not an exception to this rule. So, before even getting into the car he had told the driver very clearly that if he even thought of harming me, then he would bite his ankles. The driver had smiled, slightly condescendingly at the goose, so to prove his point Aquila bent his neck, spread out his wings and pecked the driver's feet. Whilst the driver was engaged in jumping up and down in pain, Aquila proceeded to give the car a very thorough inspection before pronouncing it safe. It is needless to say that since Aquila had only just arrived in this world, he had no idea what he was talking about.

He commandeered the front seat, "so that I can keep an eye on you," he said to the driver, and proceeded to spend the entire journey glaring at him, with the occasional hiss. Needless to say, the driver got increasingly more nervous at the close proximity so by the time we pulled up at my house the sweat on his forehead was very visible.

When we came to a stop, he practically flew out of the car to open the door for me. I tried to smile in sympathy to the man, but I'm afraid that my efforts were likely enough useless. The poor man was going to have to go through the same thing in the morning.

As the various Narnians (and Mr. Small) disembarked from the three cars, and began congregating on my front lawn, I became aware of the neighbours peering curiously out from behind curtained windows. A few made no attempts to hide their interest, even going so far as to come outside to stare. This I paid little mind to, for at that moment the door of my house swung open and there was a blur before I found a head of hair in my face, and two arms squeezing me tightly. Lucy.

I returned the hug in full measure, wishing that I was strong enough to pick her up and swing her around. I had missed her. It was difficult to explain just how much, but any period of time spent away from my siblings always felt like part of myself was missing. There was always the worry. What if they need me? What if they are in danger? What if they are unhappy? In those first moments when we come back together there are always those feelings of relief and joy, and then the difficulty of letting go again.

Eventually though, I did let go, and Lucy stepped back, just one pace and looked carefully over me, checking for any ills or hurts that I may have being trying to hide. I smiled at her in reassurance and she smiled back, having noticed my own return inspection.

Then she exclaimed, "Oh, Edmund! You did it. I knew you would of course. I tried to explain to mother, but she just wouldn't listen to me. Not that I _really _expected her to, but I had to try. I didn't think I would get in trouble for it, but I was sent to bed without any supper."

She looked positively affronted at that, but then her entire face brightened and she looked around at our subjects, "But Edmund, you did it. I always knew you would but it was so pleasing to hear it on the radio. You will have to tell me everything."

I nodded as she chattered and then said, "I will, but first, where is Mother? We ought to explain everything to her first. I doubt she will disbelieve us now."

Lucy laughed. It was a cheerful, carefree laugh, so particular to her and I immediately felt my own fears and concerns lighten.

"Well, when I first heard on the radio this morning about the boy who knew the Narnians, I realised what must have happened and I thought that even though Mother didn't believe me, it would be absolutely terrible to find out the truth from the radio. So I determined to act absolutely beastly so that Mother would not have a moment to listen to the radio. I will have to apologise but I couldn't think of another way to distract her. She thinks I am upset over being sent to bed with no supper. The last thing I did was pour all the milk on the kitchen floor, so Mother has gone to the shops before they close to get some more. She had Mrs. Thomas keep an eye on me whilst she is gone. I don't think she quite trusted me to behave myself." She giggled.

I looked over Lucy's shoulder and for the first time, noticed Mrs. Thomas, our elderly next door neighbour standing there with a gobsmacked expression on her face. I smiled kindly at her, but she merely stared. Not at me, but at Faraz who was prowling around the garden.

"Mother will probably be back in ten minutes."

I turned back to Lucy just as she turned to Mr. Small who was standing somewhat awkwardly to the side. She looked curiously at him, and I made the introductions. Mr. Small looked very confused when I introduced Lucy as a Queen. Then he went very white.

Lucy however smiled charmingly at him, "Would you like to come in for tea, Sir. You look slightly unwell, if you would forgive me for saying so, and it has been a rather long journey."

Mr. Small was looking between me and Lucy and then I realised why. I suddenly felt a little green myself.

"My royal _sister_ is quite an accomplished healer. It was one of the duties that she took on when the _four _of us first started ruling as Kings and Queens," I interjected in an effort to clear up his horrid misconception. The thought that we could... I shuddered.

Mr. Small smiled in relief as he realised that Lucy was a Queen Regnant and not a... a... _Consort._

Mr. Small agreed, noting that he could not leave until I was safely under the supervision of my parent. He was after all responsible for me in his mind.

Lucy began herding Mr. Small and Mrs. Thomas into the house, as well as that unfortunate driver. Her keen gaze had noticed that he was looking distinctly uncomfortable and so she set to cheering him up. Already her natural kindness was setting him at ease, and I had no doubt that within ten minutes he would be laughing at her jokes. If she was a little older and if England was slightly more chivalrous he would be swearing eternal devotion to her, and offering to give his life for her protection. I always believed that if Lucy was a little less open, she would make a finer diplomat than I. I do not know anyone (except the odd Calormen) who was not susceptible to her charms.

Just before she went out of sight her eyes met mine, and I nodded once in understanding. Lucy, always more perceptive then anyone gave her credit for had some insight that she wanted to share with me. I knew that later that night, once Mother had been dealt with and once are guests were gone we would be having a long and frank discussion.

Before following her inside I turned to Faraz. The policemen who had escorted us would be staying until others relieved them, and they would be acting as protection against threats and the inevitable press. However, Faraz was sure to have his own ideas on how to protect us.

"Will you be coming inside or remaining out?"

"I will come inside for now, I think," he said slowly. "I want to see the layout and Aquila will be a very good deterrent for anyone outside. I'll leave Eadulf in charge. He's a good second and no one is likely to argue with a wolf."

I nodded in acceptance as he set to assigning posts to all the guards. The faun and dwarf were sent round the side into the back garden.

"Just one question, Your Majesty. How will we recognise your mother?"

I smiled in remembrance and said, "She looks like Susan when last you saw her, only older and with Lucy's eyes, and Peter's nose."

He bowed his head, and relayed the description to the police and guards.

Without further ado we went into the house.


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Hi all, and thank you very much for your patience with me. I know it has been a while since my last update. Thankfully the next chapter is already half written, so hopefully you will not have to wait so long for it, although no promises. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. Your feedback is welcome and appreciated especially since this story is very much an experiment for me in style and techniques. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Cap ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Chronicles of Narnia. If I did, I doubt I would ever have had the Pevensies leave.

* * *

Hardly ten minutes passed when suddenly a loud scream pierced the air. Mr. Small dropped his cup of tea by accident and I did as well, but purposefully. I bolted towards the door, Lucy only a step behind me. In absence of a weapon I grabbed the nearest thing, a butter knife, and Lucy grabbed an umbrella, which was stood by the front door. We burst outside, holding our makeshift weapons before us. Faraz bounded in front of us and made a low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat.

There was mother, curly-haired and wearing an expression of terror on her face. By her feet lay her bags of shopping. The milk had burst and was spilling into a puddle at her feet.

Her gaze swept from Eadulf, who was trying to look as unintimidating as possible with his ears flat against his head, and sat on his haunches, to us and she gaped.

"Edmund... what are you...shouldn't you be... what is going on?"

I lowered the butter knife sheepishly and attempted to smile comfortingly. Mother didn't look appeased.

"It's a long story, Mother," I said whilst running a hand through my hair.

"I should think so, "she shrieked.

I winced, "Why don't we continue this conversation inside. No, don't bother with that, "I said as she bent to pick up her shopping. "Broder," (being the name of the Dwarf), "will deal with it."

Broder had come running when he heard the shout and glared at me when I offered his service to do such a menial task. After all, there was a perfectly good Faun around and Fauns actually liked cleaning up after people. Mind you, Dwarves like being grumpy, especially when they have a reasonable excuse to be so, so even though he grumbled and complained, he was actually well pleased.

Mother nodded slowly and let her shopping go, raising her hand nervously to her hair and shooting fearful looks at Faraz. Faraz backed off, but it was not in his nature to be gentle and with his claws and obvious strength, Mother was obviously terrified.

It was then that I noted a presence at my back and turned around to see Mr. Small. He stepped around me and over to my mother, holding out his hand.

She took it almost in a daze as Mr. Small said, "Mrs. Pevensie, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Mr. Small, one of Edmund's teachers."

I was surprised to see my mother seize on Mr. Small's name and look to him for a sense of reassurance. However, Mr. Small took my mother by the arm and before I knew it, he had led her around us and into the house. Lucy and I shared bemused glances before following them.

Mrs. Thomas, having calmed down some since we arrived, was busy clearing up the spilled mess but quickly dropped what she was doing upon seeing my mother, and bustled her over to a seat and shoved a cup of tea into her hand. Mother reflexively drank it, and I could see her visibly calm.

Now though, the room was beginning to get rather crowded, and seeing this, and realising that my mother likely enough needed some space, she said, "Well, now that you are home, Mrs. Pevensie, I better be leaving. I do have dinner to put on."

Mother nodded as Mrs. Thomas left, leaving just Lucy, Mother, Mr. Small, Faraz, Almana (hidden in my hair) and I. Mother spent a few minutes sipping her tea before she was somewhat recovered. Then she issued me a stern glare and said, "Edmund what is going on? Are these Narnians? And why has your teacher had to come all the way out here? Have you got into trouble?"

Mr. Small interrupted before I got to speak, "I am here because I had to escort your son home. He is not in trouble, but I could not leave him to get home from London."

Mother shot him a small smile, "You were very kind to do that, but I would like to know from Edmund what is going on, and why it was necessary for him to come home in the first place."

I shared a glance with Lucy which Mother noticed as she snapped, "Well, I am waiting. I have a feeling whatever it is, is the reason Lucy was acting so uncharacteristically today."

I sighed, "I suppose it did not escape your notice that we all came back from the country changed?"

"Of course, I noticed," she said impatiently. "I would be a poor mother if I did not."

I nodded, trying to think of an opening. This was hard! I never thought I would have to explain something so unbelievable. "What you don't know is the reason why."

I took a deep breath, and then realising there was no way to ease the knowledge, I said it; "The Narnians are not the first people to travel between worlds. During our evacuation, we somehow found our way into Narnia."

Mother took a sip of tea and deliberately put it down. She did not look as surprised as she did before. I suppose the real surprise had been seeing a Narnian in her living room, after that, it was not so much of a jump to assume that we'd been to Narnia before.

"How?" she asked.

"The Professor, he had a wardrobe. We fell through it. Lucy first, then I, then Susan and Peter. We fell into a land of snow and ice and magic."

"I think... I understand."

No she didn't and I looked desperately at Lucy. Lucy took Mother's hands in her own small hands.

"We lived there for fifteen years," she said.

Mother gasped, "How? What?"

So I talked of it all, from the evacuation to the white stag, Lucy interrupting occasionally, and through it all she grew steadily whiter and whiter, until at last she burst into tears and threw her arms around the two of us, hugging us close.

"My babies," she cried into my hair. "My poor babies. You grew up without me and you've been through so much! I should never have sent you away!"

We comforted her as best as we were able, and then at last the sobs subsided and Mr. Small offered Mother a hanky which she accepted.

"You did the right thing sending us away. If you hadn't we wouldn't have survived, but because you did we found _Narnia _and _Aslan_."

Mother sobbed slightly, "But I wasn't there for you!"

She wasn't there, and we all knew it, and it was hard, but we grew anyway and grew well. I couldn't say anything to her though, because it would only upset her and that I did not want to do, not anymore than I already had.

"We made it though. Peter and Susan looked after us," Lucy said consolingly.

"But who looked after them?"

To that, I had no answer.

* * *

After a while, and after Mother had stopped sobbing again, she asked, "Have you ever been back?"

"Yes, though only once for Peter and Susan, and only twice for Lucy and I. Eustace has gone though, and so has a friend of his called Jill."

Mother smiled slightly and said, "Eustace? I don't suppose he had much fun?"

"Not at first anyway, though he grew to love Narnia as much as the rest of us."

At her questioning glance, Lucy, being the better story teller, told of the Voyage of the Dawn Treader and about Eustace the Undragoned.

At the end of it Mother shook her head in bemusement, "It all sounds rather like a fairy tale. I wouldn't have believed it, if it weren't for..." she gestured at Faraz.

"It is hard to believe," said Mr. Small. "But your children are Monarchs of a country."

Mother had this almost proud, almost bitter look on her face, "They are, aren't they?" Then she got this look of horror on her face, "Your father! He needs to be told! But he..."

"Is in America with Susan, and I'm sure she can explain it all to him," I said, interrupting her panic.

Mother nodded, and then catching a look at the time exclaimed, "It is so late! I must get dinner on, but Oh! Mr. Small will you be staying? I don't know how long it will take you to get back to..." Mother liked to cook, clean and organise when she was upset.

Mr. Small waved her down, "No, I've got to get back to the school. The Headmaster will want to talk to me and it will take a while to get there."

Then he looked directly at me and said, "Your Majesty – Edmund, I am sorry for the way I have treated you in the past year. You did not deserve it. You had changed and I refused to see it."

I looked at him regally and then I slowly bowed my head and accepted his apology.

* * *

Peter was getting fed up. The boys were not listening to him, and the chaperone was proving worse than useless. If he was the one in charge, he would have forced the boys to stop hours ago. Instead, he had allowed them to carry on. It didn't help that they were going the wrong way, and Peter was sure that the chaperone did not know that. Now their stupidity was compounding itself with what Peter considered, the mother of all sins.

They were walking alongside the edge of a cliff, which was quite high above a river, swollen with spring water and fast moving. That didn't matter because they were high enough over the river that if they fell, it wouldn't be the river that killed them, but the fall itself. What made Peter angry was that instead of walking a safe distance away from the edge, they were walking practically on top of it.

Now Peter wasn't a Dwarf or a Mole to know all about different rock types. What he was, was a boy with a rather large amount of common sense, and common sense told him that having a large amount of rowdy, teenage boys walking along a cliff side in the rain, was just asking for trouble. Visibility was not good, and just one wrong foot or slip could send any of them to their untimely demise.

Add to that the fact that living near a cliff for most of his life had taught him that cliffs could be dangerous. He and Edmund had enjoyed rock climbing, but they only did it in areas of 'Good, strong, rock,' as the Dwarves would say. Anything else they stayed well clear of, because otherwise the rock might crumble away beneath their feet. A person never knew whether the floor was stable or not, until a person stepped on it, and by then it was too late.

Did his classmates listen to him though? No, they just laughed at him, called him a coward and then did it anyway just to spite him, and Peter was left to follow in their wake and try his best to keep them out of trouble.

Peter was so caught up in his anger that he did not notice when one of his friends came up behind him until he slapped him on the back.

"Cheer up, Peter," said Simon. "You've been acting down all day."

Peter scowled and looked down at the river which bubbled in excitement. Simon caught his look and swung an arm over his shoulder.

"Relax; there isn't anything to worry about. If there was, Mr. Wiven over there would have said something."

Peter glared darkly at Mr. Wiven. Mr. Wiven would not know if something was dangerous until it had killed him. He shook off Simon's arm and took a step forward.

That was when it happened. For a second the ground held, but then without warning there was a rumbling sound and the ground melted away beneath his foot. He hovered for a second, trying to reclaim his balance. He had just enough time to exclaim in surprise before the rest of the ground disappeared and he began to fall.

His descent was halted when something seized him by the arm and a rough voice said, "Easy there. I've got you. Don't struggle, or we'll both fall down, and it will be just my luck to die on a rainy day."

Peter looked up in surprise. First he saw a webbed hand holding onto his arm. His eyes travelled from the hand, up long, spindly arms of surprising strength, to a disproportionately short body dressed in colours of the earth and finally up to a murky coloured face, half shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat. His mind froze.

He was looking at a marsh-wiggle.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Alright, a rather quick update, to make up for the fact that I am entering exam time and so updates will become infrequent. It's a shame, because we've now entered what I call the meat of the piece. I'd advise you to fasten your seatbelts. Things just became interesting. Cap ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia, and whilst my pet cat thinks he can talk, he can't.

* * *

Dinner was a subdued affair and afterwards Mother took herself off to bed rather quickly. I suspect she needed some time alone to absorb what we had told her. Nevertheless, it afforded me the opportunity to converse with Lucy in privacy. She had been shooting me looks all evening and it was only years of experience that prevented her from squirming in her seat. As it was, she was clearly agitated and knowing my sister as I do, that worried me.

No sooner had we heard the door to Mother's room closing when she said to me, "Come on upstairs, I've got something to show you."

I nodded grimly and turned to Faraz, "Remain here, good my cat. I will call you if you are required."

Or he'd sense that we were in trouble and would come regardless. I felt a stirring in my hair and then Almana crawled over my ear and down onto my shoulder.

I stopped her with a firm, "You may stay with us. Your counsel will be appreciated."

The spider stopped her descent and settled down. I went upstairs to where Lucy was waiting in her room, her hands unclenching and clenching at her sides. She managed a smile of greeting for Almana when I said to her, "I don't suppose you remember Almana, do you?"

Almana, as a spider, only had very limited interaction with my siblings, although that was likely due to inclination, more than anything else.

"Only vaguely, but it is a pleasure to see you again."

Almana snapped her pincers in response.

Pleasantries out the way I said to Lucy, "What do you know?"

In response Lucy hurried over to a toy chest in the corner of her room and opened it. Instead of toys, the chest was lined with papers and magazines. I stared as she knelt next to it and started sifting through the papers, muttering under her breath, until she found what she was looking for, pulling it out with a loud, "ah ha!"

Being a boy at a boy's school, I immediately recognised the item in question.

"Lucy! What are you doing with that- that paper?" I asked, aghast, although I really shouldn't have been. Lucy was always one to do exactly the opposite of what she ought to.

Lucy shrugged not at all contrite and I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that I would never know why she did the things she did.

"It is perfectly respectable."

I wasn't even going to deign to respond to that.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter. Read it."

"You can't trust what this sa..."

"Read it!"

My mouth slammed closed and I raised an eyebrow. It was not often that Lucy became so forceful, and the fact that she had was a clear indication that something in the paper had seriously rattled her.

I picked up the paper and began flicking through, passed all the detailed articles which in other circumstances I would have happily read in all its lurid detail, until I came to about half way through the paper where a tiny report was buried. I almost didn't see it.

On reading it my other eyebrow shot up. I had to read it a second time just to be sure that my eyes were not deceiving me. I slowly and deliberately placed the article down and looked into Lucy's anxious face. She was twisting her hands and chewing her lip. I understood why as a cold fear had snaked its way into my heart.

"This is in Wales?" I questioned.

Lucy went over to the toy chest and pointed at the sides and lids that were lined with papers of varying repute.

"Not just in Wales," she cried. "Norfolk, Birmingham, Devon – For Aslan's sake, even in Scotland. Everywhere but London itself there have been reports. They've been laughed at up until now, but I imagine soon enough with the Portal known about, they'll believe."

"And not just believe," I added in almost a whisper.

No, they'd blame the Narnians. Just out of war they would not be willing to distinguish between friend and foe. I clenched my fist in anger.

"How far back are these dated?" I asked, almost in detachment, my mind was already going through possible solutions, seizing on one idea and then throwing it away almost in the next second.

"I saw the first article a few days ago when I heard about the Narnians. I knew Aslan had a purpose and I imagined that he would want us to do what we could. I started looking for unusual things; something that screamed of Narnia. I stumbled across that article on the bed. The rest are backlogs that I managed to get hold of. Don't ask how. They go back almost two months, Edmund."

Two months! How did we miss this? Two months of just reporting, and I could bet that they would have been around for longer than that.

The question must have been on my face because Lucy with her usual perceptiveness answered the unspoken question.

"We weren't looking. We thought Narnia was closed to us."

No, Narnia was not closed to us. It never had been. Instead it had managed to find its way into the world of our birth. Yet why had the evil managed to make it first? They would have had months to plan, and to scheme; months to fortify themselves for war.

And war would come. I knew that now, and I also knew that no matter what I would like to have been true, we were utterly unprepared for it.

* * *

Underneath a large, overhanging rock, a fire cackled merrily as a marsh-wiggle fed it small twigs and leaves. How he managed to even start a fire in the damp showed the high skill of marsh-wiggles, because Peter was quite sure he would not be able to start a fire in similar conditions, without a lot of difficulty.

Peter himself sat, with a thick blanket over his shoulders, right next to the fire.

After he had been pulled to safety and after the boys in his class had been assured by the marsh-wiggle that there was nothing to be afraid of, the marsh-wiggle had led them to a place of shelter. Simon, feeling tremendously guilty, and blaming himself for the incident (which Peter thought was ridiculous as whilst Simon might have been one of the boys stupid enough not to listen to him, Peter had not had to follow them in their stupidity, and anyway, it wasn't like Simon had pushed him!) had bundled him up in blankets, insisted he sat close to the fire, and as soon as it was made, had shoved a bowl of warm soup into his hands. He was, in fact, acting a rather lot like the mother hens who lived around the Cair.

Most of the boys were still wary of the marsh-wiggle and so were sitting a small distance away. The rain had finally stopped, so they did not feel compelled to fight over who got to sit under the limited shelter.

Peter meanwhile was trying to think of a way to introduce himself to the marsh-wiggle and find out just how he had managed to get into Wales. It was quite clear that the marsh-wiggle did not have a clue who he was. He'd implied as much when he had said – after introducing himself as Muddledoun- that he'd been following because he'd known that walking so close to the edge was just asking for something bad to happen and he thought that he should be around to help when it did. Normally, Peter would have put such a remark down to normal marsh-wiggle pessimism, but seeing as the marsh-wiggle was right and he'd been following with the same thought process in mind, he thought that would be uncharitable.

Still, that didn't solve the problem of what he was going to say. The marsh-wiggle seemed quite content to sit there smoking his very odd pipe. Peter found it very difficult to concentrate with the black mist pooling around his feet as it trickled over the bowl. He'd never been much of a smoker, although like all his siblings he'd tried the stuff. It was considered very poor manners to refuse a pipe if a marsh-wiggle offered one to you. Susan had been the only one to enjoy the stuff, although she partook only infrequently. Edmund had wanted to enjoy the stuff, thinking that it fit in with the image he was creating for himself rather well. Unfortunately, it had tickled his throat rather badly and after he'd had a violent coughing fit, the marsh-wiggles had never offered to share again.

Well, he'd been staring in dumb silence for a while now, and his thoughts were not going to become any more ordered. It was best that he started acting like the High King and get to the bottom of the matter.

"Muddledoun," he began to get the marsh-wiggles attention.

He let out a puff of his pipe and looked at him with a rather morose expression on his face.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering how a marsh-wiggle managed to get here. I'd never heard of a marsh-wiggle being anywhere but Narnia."

The marsh-wiggle puffed again and looked suspiciously at him.

"How do you know about Narnia? I never mentioned it."

Peter thought it would be a bad idea to mention his identity until he knew more. Marsh-wiggles had never been traitors before, but then marsh-wiggles had never been in Wales before.

"Would it surprise you to learn that people of this world had been to Narnia before?" A very small number to be sure, but Muddledoun didn't need to know that.

"No," said Muddledoun as a wave of smoke belched over the edge of his pipe. "Anything is possible, and the more impossible something seems, the more likely it is to happen."

Peter thought that such a philosophy really explained marsh-wiggle attitudes.

Peter sat up straight and raised an eyebrow. It was a look he'd given plenty of times before and it had a visible effect, for all that Muddledoun had no idea who he was.

"I don't know how I got here. I was walking through some woods when all of a sudden I didn't recognise where I was, so I thought I'd better turn back, although by then, I knew it was already too late. I thought to myself, 'Well, Old Muddle, what mess have you got yourself into this time?' because the direction I'd been walking from was also unfamiliar."

He took a deep breath, "Well, I thought I'd better ask some people for directions, although I didn't really think I'd have any luck in finding any people, and the trees were strangely silent. I thought that the trees were dead, they were so still, although since then, I've found out that trees here don't talk at all."

"I had to hide, because the only people I came across thought I was some sort of monster, which isn't surprising at all, when you think about it. They shot at me with some weird weapon of fire and smoke."

Peter felt a welling up of rage as the marsh-wiggle recounted how he was attacked with guns. How dare someone attack one of his people? Muddledoun however seemed unconcerned.

"Of course, I'm not the only Narnian around. I haven't met any talking beasts of course, or at least not the good sort, but then, one never runs into allies in strange places do they? Plenty of hags, trolls and giants though. Don't rightly know what they are up to, but I've been doing my bit, little use though it's been."

Peter felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. Hags, giants, trolls, and who knew what manner of other fell beasts and he in the wilderness with a bunch of untrained boys and know weapon to speak of. A decision was made. He needed to know more.

"How many have you seen, Muddledoun?"

Muddledoun looked a bit uncertain, "I don't know if I should tell you. I think I've said enough as it is, and that sort of information isn't right for children to know. Could mess you up something rotten."

Peter sat up and stared authoritatively at him, "You will tell me, marsh-wiggle."

Muddledoun was taken aback by the sudden switch in the boy in front of him. He saw a gleam of something in his eyes which caused him to say with a note of wonder, "Who are you?"

Peter stood up, allowing the blanket to fall from his teenage shoulders. He straightened his back and allowed all his magnificence and regality to shine through. The noise in the background ground to a halt as the boys took note of him. He had eyes only for Muddledoun.

"I am Peter, sometimes called the Magnificent, High King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Sir Peter wolf's bane."

He stared down in the silence and Muddledoun stared back in surprise.

"Now tell me everything that you know."


	13. Chapter 13

AN:Hi all, Thank you for your patience in waiting for this chapter, and I hope it lives up to expectations. Hopefully it will not take quite as long for the next one to be written. I want to say a massive Thank You to Rthstewart, who has graciously allowed me to use some of her characters. If you haven't read her fics, go read them now! Seriously, they are amazing, and have really altered my views on the Narnia world. All the OCs in the Susan section were taken from her world. She also helped me to iron out a fair amount of this chapter, so again Thank You.

AN2: Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year/ or Happy whatever depending on religious views and opinions.

AN3: The poetical extract is taken from the poem 'Ode to Beauty' by Mary Darby Robinson.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia... judging by my speed of updates, if I did own them, I would be lucky to have finished writing one book.

* * *

Deep within the halls of the British Embassy in Washington there was a small office which seemed dab and grey except for the heart of colour given off by brightly spun flowers and the fashionable dresses of the secretaries, who were busier than they had been since the war. The office could have been described as grubby, were there not clear evidence of an effort to keep it otherwise. This office was the heart of the British espionage scene in America, and they were desperately trying to get a hold of this 'Narnia' situation, so they could spin it to their advantage. It was only a few months since the end of the war, and American support was still very much needed. A pile of paper was on the floor in the corner, and even more paper was stacked precariously on the desks. The window was kept shut encase a sudden gust of wind came and blew them over.

"Guy!" came a call as Colonel Walker-Smythe stuck his head out of his office door. A tall, black man with a calm face looked up from his point in the corner where he had been sitting to avoid the mass of chaos which was caused by the constant deliveries of messages, the phone which never seemed to stop ringing, the reply of "He's not in at the moment," "Please call back," and the rare, "Please hold."

"Yes, Sir?"

"Where is Tebbitt?" Smythe snapped. He looked harried.

Guy suppressed a sigh, "I don't know, Sir?"

"Well round him up and get him here. Gladys, I won't be taking anymore calls."

Gladys waved her hand in acknowledgement and said into the phone, "No, Sir. Would you like me to take a message?" just as Tebbitt stumbled into the room. His eyes were bloodshot, his shirt was askew and there was a smudge of lipstick on his cheek. He was either nursing a hangover or still drunk, possibly both. Guy thought it was about time he snapped out of it. Although he supposed that if he had to do what Tebbitt did, he would get pissed an awful lot as well. He shuddered. _Socialites_.

"You're late, Tebbitt," the Colonel observed

Tebbitt shrugged and the Colonel crooked his finger and gestured into his office. Tebbitt didn't even bother to smile in Gladys' direction but shuffled in behind Smythe. Guy ambled in after them and stood silently by the door with his arms crossed. Tebbitt slumped into a seat and the Colonel sank into his own worn chair behind the desk, taking a moment to observe Tebbitt as he was quickly debriefed from the night before. The notes were complete, but ordered in such a way that Smythe wondered how he managed to keep a hold of them all. He needed a babysitter, and Guy just couldn't cut it.

After he finished debriefing, Smythe got quickly onto new matters.

"I just had a call from the Secretary of State. It seems that there is a dignitary on American soil, and given the nature of this dignitary and seeing as the request for action came from our side of the pond, it seems that our office is the one best suited to dealing with it."

Gladys knocked on the door and came bustling in with a pile of papers and a cup of coffee which was shoved into Tebbitt's hands. He sat there holding it, but not drinking it and some colour seemed to come back to him. Smythe tapped his fingers impatiently at the interruption and as soon as the door was shut again he continued.

"It so happens that this dignitary is the Queen of Narnia, or _A_ Queen of Narnia if my information is correct," and they all knew it was, "I do not know how much she is aware of but you need to go to where she is staying with her aunt, pick her up and take her here to where she can be kept safe." _And where she can be questioned_, was the unsaid implication.

"Why is it our responsibility?" Tebbitt whined. He wanted to get some more sleep, and didn't feel up to looking after some old hag.

Smythe didn't say anything for a moment, he merely shuffled some papers around on his desk.

"I don't trust the damned FBI to not get to her first, and if they do, who knows when they will give her back."

Tebbitt suddenly sat up in his chair, 'Does this mean you want me to seduce a Queen?"

The Colonel scowled, his moustache twitching and he yelled, 'If you do, you'll be in the Orkneys' so fast, you won't even know how you got there!"

Tebbitt put up his hands in surrender, "Easy, I'm not keen on sleeping with an old lady anyway."

Smythe continued to glare just to make absolutely certain. He could still smell the perfume from last night's target on him after all. Tebbitt looked away.

He passed across the file they needed. Tebbitt scowled, but Guy took it and grabbed Tebbitt by the arm, hauling him to his feet.

"Hey!"

"We'll get to it, Sir." Guy nodded as he opened the door and dragged a protesting Tebbitt out.

* * *

Once in the car, and once Tebbitt had been dropped off at his place for a very quick shower and a chance to empty his stomach (he was meeting a Queen after all), the file was handed to Tebbitt. He read it quickly, sharing the insignificant details with Guy to pass the time.

"Not an old hag after all," he commented.

"Ahum,"

"Yes, it seems this Queen Susan is in fact rather young. Fifteen to be exact."

Guy carried on staring at the road as they left the busy streets to a quieter suburban road.

Tebbitt slouched a little, "You could pretend to listen, Hill," he groused.

"When you have something of worth to say," Guy intoned.

Tebbitt slouched a little more and began to tap the dashboard. Guy pretended not to notice.

Tebbitt took a sip from a hip flask. Guy pretended not to notice.

The Colonel had tried to ban Tebbitt from drinking after one embarrassing moment, where he missed an important lunch because he was still drunk from the night before. This didn't mean that Tebbitt stopped, rather it meant he was much more discreet about it, which was, of course the Colonel's intention when he issued the ban. Of course both Smythe and Guy were perfectly aware that Tebbitt needed to drink in his line of work. The American Social Scene which held Tebbitt in such demand would not allow for complete sobriety.

"Is this the place then," Tebbitt asked, as they pulled up across the road from a two story house with a small garden in front.

"Yes."

Tebbitt blinked and then perked up in his seat, observing a young woman fumbling with her keys as she held bags of shopping.

_Exulting beauty, phantom of an hour,  
whose magic spells enchain the heart,  
Ah! What avails thy fascinating pow'r,_

"Is that her?" Guy asked. Tebbitt looked at him and then looked at the door that the woman had just opened, noticing the number, recognising it as the house in which Queen Susan was residing, a very fifteen Queen Susan. All thoughts of seduction fled.

"Yes, it is. Shall we go introduce ourselves?"

Guy said nothing in answer, and Tebbitt shrugged and stepped out of the vehicle, ambling over to where one of Susan's bags had just split at her feet. She swore.

"May we help you?" Guy cut in smoothly.

Susan jumped but smiled gratefully, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you. That is really kind."

Tebbitt and Guy helped carry the bags into the kitchen which Susan directed them to and then stood there awkwardly. Now that they were in the house, they didn't know quite how to proceed. Susan raised an eyebrow at them, but did not appear frightened by their presence in any way. Nor did she seem to have any idea of why they were there, which struck the two as rather odd.

She simply said, "May I help you?"

Tebbitt frowned slightly and asked, "Have you been reading the Paper's recently."

"I dare say I haven't had the chance," Susan said, fighting the urge to run a tired hand through her hair. She'd been volunteering at a local hospital for war veterans with permanent injuries. That, coupled with her Aunts insistence that she attend various social functions, where the most they ever talked about was clothes and men, meant she'd barely had the chance to sleep. It didn't help that she had to pitch in with the majority of the household chores. It was her aunt's way of making her pay her way – And Edmund thought that she was becoming silly!

Guy didn't blink, instead he silently held out a paper which had been tucked under one arm. Susan looked curiously at the paper, reaching out a hand to take it. She glanced at him in bemusement and then looked at the paper. She couldn't restrain a gasp.

"How is this possible!"

She looked like she was going to faint, so Guy, ever the gentleman reached out a steadying hand. She shook it off shakily and stalked over to the counter where she busied herself with pouring out cups of coffee (she had become used to the taste whilst in America) and then gulped hers down in one, before pouring herself another.

"I think you need something stronger," said a voice at her shoulder, and then Tebbitt was taking out his hip flask and pouring a generous amount into her mug. Susan smiled gratefully, and drunk deeply.

After taking a moment to compose herself, she said, "So where are you two from?"

This was not a question about geography and all three knew it.

"The Embassy, Ma'am."

Susan nodded and avoided looking at the newspaper, "And I suppose you wish me to go with you?"

Guy nodded and Tebbitt smiled.

"Right then, I suppose it is for my safety, although I am not convinced that you two are merely security personnel."

Tebbitt began to protest but Susan held up a hand silencing him instantly, "No, don't argue. You have the look and if I was in your position I would not trust myself to just anybody."

Tebbitt shared a glance with Guy and then smiled broadly, "I am beginning to understand just why you are a Queen. Very well, Ma'am, you caught us. Would you be willing to answer my questions?"

Susan smiled gamely as she scribbled a note to her aunt and picked up her handbag and coat, "Perhaps. It depends entirely on the questions?"

* * *

"Edmund! Edmund! Wake up Ed!"

"Gohway," I mumbled into my pillow, my warm, comfortable pillow. Lucy was attempting to wake me and I was attempting to ignore her. It was far too early to be awake. Something pointy started poking into my side and the calls got more insistent, "Edmund, wake up!"

I swatted away the hand that was poking me and opened a bleary eye and promptly shut it again. What was I dreaming about? I drifted.

A sudden, cold gust of air accosted me as the duvet was whipped out of my hold. I yelped and jumped up wide-eyed. At the end of my bed was Mother, holding the blanket in one hand. Standing in the door was Lucy, hiding her laughter behind her hand.

Mother smiled sweetly, "Good Morning, Darling. It is time to wake up."

I slumped back onto my pillow and glared at her, crossing my arms over my chest. In the corner, Faraz gave a muffled snort and I turned my scowl on him briefly before returning to staring at Mother. I would have to have a word with Mother about undermining my authority, because whipping off a duvet was not how one woke up a King, no matter how determined to sleep they were. There was a certain dignity that had to be maintained and... Oh, Aslan. Nothing I could say would make one bit of difference. She was my mother. She would do what she wanted.

At least she seemed to be in a better state of mind then the night before.

Giving up with my pointless scowling, I swung my feet off the bed and onto the carpet, and stretched out a yawn.

"What time is it," I groused, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"Half-Six," Lucy said happily. Blasted morning person. Wait, did she just say...?

"Why the hell did you wake me up so early?"

Especially because we had been up half the night discussing our strategy, and consolidating our information. Three hours sleep is simply not enough. I hated it when I was in Narnia, and I hated it even more in England.

"Because, Ed, we have a visitor."

"What?"

Who would get here so early in the morning and why did Lucy seem so pleased about it?

Not bothering to grab my dressing grown, I followed Lucy onto the landing and down the stairs, Faraz trotting behind me, his tail whipping about playfully.

My pyjama clad form froze as we entered the living room and my mouth dropped open. Standing in front of me was a Centaur, and not just any Centaur. It was Oreius. How the hell did he get here so fast?

It took a moment for my mind to catch up with me, and I quickly shut my mouth with an audible snap. I could see a smile fighting to emerge, but he restrained it. I could still see it in his eyes though. Smug bastard.

"General," I managed to eventually greet, offering a Narnian salute.

He saluted back and said gently, "Your Majesty, it is good to see you again."

The genuine warmth in his tone was apparent and suddenly I had to fight to hold back tears. This was my mentor, and the closest thing to a father Peter and I had had in Narnia. I missed him.

Lucy, not noticing my struggle, said cheerfully, "Worth waking up early for, right Ed?"

I nodded quickly and turned away so I could discreetly wipe my eyes. Blasted emotions. Go away!

As I was faced the other way I saw Mother hovering in the doorway, obviously intimidated by the colossal figure, but trying very hard not to show it.

I called attention to her, revenge for the morning's rude awakening, but also a wish for them to meet because I was sure that they would get along splendidly.

"General, have you met my Mother?"

He bowed over her hand as she stepped into the room, "Only for a moment, and not properly, but it is an honour to meet the Lady who bore my Kings and Queens."

"Oh, well, it's..." Mother blushed.

The centaur turned back to where I was tugging at my too short pyjama bottoms. I'd recently gone through a growth spurt.

"Well, Your Majesty. There will be time for business soon enough, but firstly I need to test your swordsmanship."

I shot Lucy a panicked glance. She grinned at me and raised an eyebrow. I thought quickly. What was I going to do?

"I don't have any gear," I said hurriedly.

Oreius looked sternly at me as he only did when I was being his student and not his King.

"That is no matter, Sir How. I have brought some with me."

For the first time I noticed that behind him was a small pile of metal, very familiar metal which I had not worn in years. Someone had obviously told him of my reduced size and he had planned accordingly. Damn his efficiency.

I saw no excuse. "I suppose I'd better get changed then?"

Oreius nodded pointedly. I slowly took a step towards the armour, already anticipating the ache that I was going to fill. I hadn't forgotten how much Centaur work outs hurt, and I imagined that it would hurt a lot more than normal. Oreius would be making up for lost time.

It would be worse, because unlike normal, I wouldn't even have Peter to share the pain with.

Reluctantly I went and changed.


	14. Chapter 14

AN: In the style of the Hobbits, I give you all a birthday gift, and though it may be many months until another chapter arrives, you can be assured that they will keep on coming.

AN2: Thanks a bunch to Rthstewart who acted as beta for this chapter. She essentially made it so much better than what I gave to her, by noticing all the little things that I just missed. Go read her stories! Especially, Harold and Morgan which just had a new chapter out.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Chronicles of Narnia, and soon I won't own a wardrobe either, since it is broken.

* * *

Smythe was, to put it mildly, intrigued by Queen Susan. He had expected a child Queen, easily manipulated; a fool. Instead, he had been confronted by a strong woman, who had this look in her eyes which told Smythe, quite plainly, that she knew how the game was played and she knew it well.

He had sent Tebbitt and Guy out the room to wait, and then he questioned Susan. She had dodged his questions so skilfully, that at first he hadn't even realised that they were being dodged. It didn't take him long after that to see that she was learning more from his questions then he was learning from her answers. 'She is clever,' he suddenly knew, and from then on, it became much less an interrogation and much more a conversation, one adult to another, as they assessed the security situation.

It was very late at the Embassy. Most people had gone home, leaving a skeleton crew, Smythe, Tebbitt, Guy and a Narnian Queen as the only occupants. Gladys had gone home hours before, but not before asking, "Is there anything I can do for you Colonel?" There wasn't.

"I suppose, that you will be wanting to get back to England?" he asked, once all explanations had been given. He thought, with regret,that Susan would be wanting to get to her people. He thought that he could grow to like Susan, but he completely understood the necessity.

Susan, however, shocked him.

"No, Sir," Susan said calmly. "It is clear to me, that if I am here then I am here for a reason. Going back to England will serve no purpose, or at least it will serve no purpose until I have done what I am meant to here." Susan could see that the Colonel was smiling slightly and made eye contact with him, saying intently. "Colonel, you must understand that these things, portals and travelling between worlds don't just happen. If I am here, then it is not a coincidence."

The Colonel nodded his head, the smile dropping. He well understood the nature of coincidences that were too convenient to be ignored.

"Then it is time, I think," Smythe reached for a mug of coffee that had long been empty, "That you tell me what you know."

"An awful lot more than you think," Susan quipped, and Smythe couldn't help but rue the truth in that statement. "But as for the situation at hand, I think that as there are good Narnians coming into this world, then there must also be bad ones present somewhere." More slowly, Susan continued, "I think that it is not a coincidence that I am in America and Peter is in Wales and Edmund and Lucy are in England. We have been split up, and whether that is by Aslan's will or by the plotting of Our enemies I do not yet know, but acting before I do know is premature. I would like to get in contact with them, but I fear the risks. But, I will at least let my siblings know that I am aware and active. They will understand what that means."

Smythe had heard this name of Aslan several times and had surmised that Aslan was both some sort of animal and a deity and, regardless of anything else, Susan believed in him wholeheartedly. He chose to avoid the theology and psychology of that in favour of the more important issue.

""You think America might be in danger. You think Britain is in danger? Are the people at risk?" Unspoken was the modifier, _are my people at risk?_

"Yes," said Susan and the Colonel let out his breath. He had thought that would be the answer.

"How much? Do you know what the nature of the danger is?"

Susan shook her head, "I do not know. I do not know what is here already, and I do not know what they are planning and I do not know how long they have been here, or why they haven't acted yet. But they will act now. I am certain of it."

"Because their cover has been blown," Smythe surmised.

"Because their cover has been blown."

There was a pause. Smythe took the opportunity to pop his head out the office and send Guy for more Coffee. Tebbitt was asleep on the couch.

He returned to his desk. "Worst case scenario?"

The response was immediate, "The White Witch has been resurrected and has amassed an army here in order to make a full scale invasion. In that case, Aslan alone could save us. Guns and bullets would be useless."

"More likely scenario?"

Susan tilted her head to the side and chewed the bottom of her lip. "My guess? Giants, fell beasts, werewolves and hags."

Smythe had once thought these things to be myths, but the very existence of talking animals, centaurs and fauns, had made him open to the possibility that other myths might be real after all. Therefore, he wasn't so surprised at their existance. He still wanted to know what they were capable of.

"Hags?"

" It is the hags you should be most worried about. They can use magic and cause harm even from a great distance.

There was a moment of silence where the Colonel's imagination took over and he pictured fire reigning down from the heavens, and old ladies, cackling around weirdly drawn squiggles on the ground. Susan's thoughts were on something far less imaginative and far more real.

"If there is a werewolf, then soon there will be many more. It will spread, and the madness it brings will spread too. They are consumed by the need to make more like them."

"An epidemic?"

"Possible but," she hesitated, "the madness doesn't start straight away. There is a time when the person knows what is going to happen to them. They know they can't stop it, and they can feel it taking over. In Narnia, well, most thought it was better to end their own lives whilst they still had their sanity intact. Not all, of course, but enough. I think, if there is a werewolf, if you let people know then they may be tempted to make a similar choice."

"You are suggesting we let people kill themselves? There is no cure?"

She looked away. For a brief moment, she looked away.

"Colonel, when the curse takes over, it leaves nothing good in the person. They are dead to all extents and purposes, and worse still, they will hurt others."

She paused, took a deep breath. "Do you know how werewolves are made?"

He shook his head. He'd read the stories, but somehow he knew it would be different, worse. It was the way Susan seemed young all of a sudden, and so very old at the same time.

"First they are brought to the brink of death, their body beaten and bloodied and made raw and malleable. Once broken, they are bitten and left there, alone, entirely alone. They are afraid. It takes two weeks to change and during that time you are entirely alone unless you are lucky. Few are brave enough to be around a transforming werewolf. Two weeks for the body to fix itself into new shapes, and it is not painless. Even in sleep the victims wither. And during those two weeks of pain, the mind knows what is coming. It is kept clear, so it can appreciate fully its fate. And at the end of those two weeks, the transformation is complete, and there is no one there any more. Your friend is gone."

Susan shook herself. "It is not a fate I would wish on anyone, Colonel. If there was a cure..."she trailed off.

"What does it become?" The Colonel breathed. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he was sure that he needed to know.

"Inhuman; not quite a wolf but not a man or a woman either. Something in-between, and though it can change its shape a little, disguise itself, it never makes it all the way. There is always something slightly wrong, something that isn't right."

Smythe could imagine it, almost, but not quite. He breathed.

"Understood. I will..." _What? What can I do? I don't know enough! _"let my people and my contacts know of the dangers. I'll need a list, weaknesses, strengths, places they are likely to congregate..."

"I'll write it up," Susan interrupted, as the Colonel started contemplating ways to manage an epidemic (because if he treated the werewolf situation like a particularly violent disease, then it became manageable, and real, and not something he once thought was a myth.)

"Do silver bullets work as in legend?" He wondered what the cost of silver bullets were these days?

"Yes, though there is no need to be so extravagant. Werewolves can be killed by normal weapons just as easily. They are quick and tough, but they work best by not being noticed. It makes its kill slowly, and without drawing attention to itself until after its done its job. When the deed is done, though too late for the victim, it can't help but be noticed, so it moves on. Werewolves are always on the move."

"A difficult target then. I will pass on the information, as little as it is, to my contacts. In the mean time, I will find out just what we are facing. Your Majesty, your cooperation has been much appreciated."

"Am I being dismissed, Colonel?" Susan said wryly, before continuing, "I thought that I could be of more use than that."

"You are a Narnian Queen," Smythe said, as if that explained it all.

Susan smiled, and the Colonel understood why one of her titles was The Gentle. "Once I was a Queen in Narnia, and I will always be a Queen of Narnia, but Narnia has been barred to me and I have no doubt that it remains so. Colonel, though I am a Narnian, I have lived through the war in England, and known hardship in England. I drink tea and I play cricket at the weekend with my brothers. I am also an English woman, and I think, keeping that in mind, we might be able to become allies of sorts."

* * *

It had stopped raining. That was the first thing the boys had been aware of when they woke up in the morning. It had been a long night. It had not taken long to convince Muddledoun of his identity. After all, Muddledoun was not one to deny what he could see and Peter was very obviously the High King, once he stopped hiding himself. The touch of Aslan could be seen in him clearly. No, it had been the other boys that had needed convincing, because despite the presence of a marsh-wiggle, the idea that Peter, goody two-shoes Peter, slightly odd Peter, could be a King was just slightly too ridiculous for them to contemplate. It was only when Peter had told them to be quiet because they were all in grave danger and he needed to know more, and if they weren't quiet he would most definitely sock them, that they finally decided to accept the truth. Peter had a wicked right hook, and he had earned a degree of respect from the school because of it.

Of course, once he had got them quiet, and got to the important things. He had discovered that Muddledoun didn't know much more of anything. He couldn't give numbers because so far, any enemy he had encountered had been in small groups or alone. He could point out though, that they had all been heading in the same direction, which suggested that there was a hidden encampment somewhere in Wales.

Peter knew, as much as he might wish to discover where that encampment was, the safety of his classmates came first. As far as he knew, he and Muddledoun were the only ones who knew how to fight (he had forgotten the chaperones who had, of course, served in the war, though none of them had any weapon other than a knife). Peter had a knife, but no sword. At least, he didn't until Muddledoun handed him a spare.

"Never know when one might break or get lost. Always carry a spare with you, though that one will likely get lost as well..." he had muttered as he handed it to Peter.

Peter strapped it to his waist. It wasn't as good as Rhindon, but it was so very, very reassuring to hold a sword again. He resisted the urge to do more than a few swings to familiarise himself with it. He was getting enough wary looks from his classmates as it was.

The night had continued. Peter had resolved, to get the students to a nearby village and forget their target destination. If there was a village, there would be a way to get in contact with his siblings or someone who could get his classmates somewhere safe.

He set up a watch for the night, and remembered to include the chaperones when one had wryly observed that they had served in a war, and knew how to stand guard for hours on end. Peter had apologised profusely for his oversight and then organised the students so that any without any sort of knife (surprisingly few, but then they were teenage boys) were put as close to the cliff's wall as possible, with the toughest boys on the outside, and Peter and Muddledoun and the Chaperones in front of them. Peter didn't fail to notice that Muddledoun had placed himself slightly in front of Peter. Little good it would do though. If there was an attack, they would be almost defenceless.

Still, in the morning, the rain had finally stopped, which was the first piece of good news since Peter had arrived in Wales.

Whilst the chaperone's were organising the boys, Peter took out his map, and laid it on the slightly damp grass. Muddledoun leant over him, once again smoking on his pipe.

"We are here," Peter said, pointing at the map. "We were heading in this direction when you came across us. Which way were the enemies heading?"

"I reckon it was this way, most of the time I ambushed them near to this river. Seemed a decent crossing point, quite well forded. I always hoped that it would flood the damn creatures and save me the trouble. I'm surprised it never did."

Peter nodded decisively, and pointed at the map, "Have you been to this area, here?"

"Briefly. I didn't see enemies there, but I wasn't there for long, and things do change."

Peter once again nodded, and then lifted the map, folded it up again and put it in his pack.

"Right then, we will head in that direction and hope for the best. It is the opposite way of that river, but we have no idea where they are popping up from, so that might not do any good at all. Keep alert."

"Aye," Muddledoun nodded, spilling ash from his pipe as he did so. Peter didn't need to tell him. Muddledoun was always alert.

The journey started out well. They made good time, now that Peter was leading them, and the weather remained clear and bright, though not so hot as to make the boys sweaty and uncomfortable. Peter had made them all stick close to the cliff wall, so as not to have a repeat of the day before when Peter almost fell, but also because it meant that unless an enemy was looking directly down on them, they wouldn't be seen. They moved quietly and in single file. The chaperones at the back, and the marsh-wiggle moving back and forth, patrolling and taking messages.

Around mid-day the cliff began to disappear and the ground started to descend, and by one o'clock they were in the valley proper. It was very green and lush, and the sound of gurgling water, and distant wildlife could be clearly heard and felt. The boys began to relax, chat and laugh clearly, and Peter could not stop them for more than a minute at a time.

It was late in the afternoon, approaching evening when Peter began to feel that something was off. There was a stillness in the air, a lingering scent of something pungent and foreign. Something wasn't right. There was no sound of distant wildlife. In fact, the only sounds he could hear, was the moving river, and the boys' chatter. He couldn't hear any wildlife. Oh, Aslan! There was no wildlife. He stopped, looked around, hand on the hilt of his sword. His breathing quickened. There was a shadow in the distance.

Quickly, he ducked behind a small outcropping of rocks and gestured hurriedly for the other boys to hide, and be quiet for Aslan's sake! He slowed his breathing and peeked round. There, around a burnt out fire, was four great, hulking beasts, with faces that were twisted out of shape, and hands which were as big as boulders, feet as large as cars, and lips twisted upwards showcasing pointed teeth. Trolls.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief, and took a step from around the rocks towards them. They were stone. Daylight had caught them before they could hide themselves and so they had turned to rock and only the suns descent would reverse them. They wouldn't get the chance.

With a great shove, one of the trolls toppled to the ground and broke into a thousand pieces. He went to the next and shoved hard and it too broke apart. Peter had to hurriedly shut his eyes and block his face to prevent rocky shards from blinding and scratching him.

"Peter what are you doin...?"Simon asked. The fear was palpable in his voice.

Peter didn't spare him a glance as he moved onto the next one and pushed.

"It will be nightfall soon, and if these creatures are still around then we most certainly won't be."

Simon gulped just as the final troll fell to the floor, and broke into dust and rock. Peter looked around at the area they were in.

"Let's make camp here. It's a good spot and we can defend ourselves. I'll take first watch. The rest of you, make camp."

With that, he went to sit on that outcropping of rocks and stared.

_Oh Aslan, Help Me!_


End file.
